Legend
by SafireGriffon
Summary: Braska's pilgrimage, from the legendary guardian's point of view. No shonenai. Rated same as the actual game just to be safe.
1. Unwise Decisions

Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own Final Fantasy X. I know, I know, everyone's looking for something clever and funny. Too bad. Read on. ;)

**Chapter 1—Unwise Decisions, Unfortunate Meetings**

"That was not wise of you, my friend."

I barely looked up from my contemplation of the floor tiles, just enough to see two temple-issue combat boots. The same I was wearing. The toes were a little scuffed, proof of their age. I looked back at my own feet. My shoes would get a lot more scuffed before I got new ones.

"What was I supposed to do, marry the girl?" I shook my head. If I ever did get married, though I couldn't think of anyone I would volunteer to be around for that long, it wouldn't be to further my career.

He sighed, and I could almost feel his rueful smile, "At least you could have phrased your reply better. No one's ever accused you of being tactful, Auron, but I'm sure even you could have done better than look horrified and practically yell no. Besides, marrying her would have assured you a promotion. Probably several."

"As it is," I responded, still studying the blue tiles under my feet, "I'll probably get shipped off to some backwater island and get eaten to death by bugs. And I _didn't_ yell. I simply told him no thank you."

"You looked," he bent to sit beside me on the floor, "As though he'd asked you if you would be so kind as to eat your own liver."

". . .That was needlessly graphic."

He shrugged, "You were needlessly blunt. Besides, I don't see what's so bad about her. She seems nice enough. Quiet. Fairly pretty. And, oh yes, she's the _High Priest's daughter_. If he'd offered her to me, I would have married her."

"Well, why don't you go propose then, Kinoc?"

"Right after you rejected her? I'll look like the understudy. They at least need some time to cool off. Why didn't you just agree to marry her?"

I looked up at my friend. He had a frank face, clear eyes, and a friendly smile. He didn't really stand out much in any way, but people, important people, seem to have a way of remembering him anyway. He did have some skill as a tactician, but he was decent, not remarkable. He could use a weapon well enough to defend himself, but not well enough to earn any sort of medals or honors. What he said made the difference was who you knew, not what you new. He used that friendly smile, a warm handshake, and a good but not brilliant record to get where he was now. He'd laughed about it more than once, often while I glowered, "We all know you deserve a higher rank, Auron, and I a lower. Just try to smile a little; you would be surprised what it can do for you." Just to spite itself, my scowl deepened.

Kinoc chuckled at my lack of response, "Despite everything else, you still believe in fairy tales, Auron. You're the last one I would suspect of waiting for 'true love'."

"Who said that's why I didn't marry her?" I snapped, "As you so clearly pointed out, she's the High Priest's daughter. She'd be needy, whiney, and spoiled. I don't want to live with that for the rest of my life."

"Your secret's out now," Kinoc laughed, "You really are a sentimental under all that sarcasm."

"I am no such thing!" But before I could continue the argument, we were distracted by the sound of small sandaled feet racing down the hall. They stopped in front of us, "Uh, Auron, sir?"

"Yes?"

The acolyte took a step back, "Uh, um, th-they've requested your presence in Sir Liam's office, sir."

"Tell them I'll be there immediately." The boy nodded quickly and ran off, too-big sandals flip-flopping all the way.

"You didn't have to scare the kid, Auron."

"I didn't do anything!" I protested.

"Sure. You just looked like you wanted to chop his head off and feed it to a fiend."

I just rolled my eyes and got up, turning down the hallway to my commanding officer's office.

"Auron, we're transferring you to Killika. They've been short-handed there for some time, and since you have demonstrated your capabilities as a fighter time and time again, we know you'll be of great help to them."

I stood stiffly trying to control the anger thudding in my ears, "I'm being demoted for proving my skill, sir?"

"It's not a demotion; it's a transfer," Captain Liam tried to say off-handedly. When I didn't return his smile, he handed me my transfer papers, "You have a week to get your things together. There's a map in that folder."

I walked back down the hallway slowly. Killika? Everyone knew Killika was where they sent the screw-ups. The guys that were never going to be anything. They supplemented their ranks with _volunteers_ from the _village_. 'Not a demotion,' I snorted, 'Like shoveling shoopuf excrement isn't a demotion.'

"Jeez, Auron, you look like you just swallowed a Flame Flan. Was it that bad?" I waited until I was closer to answer.

"They're transferring me."

"Transfer?" Kinoc smiled, "Is that all? You'll be able to work your way back to Bevelle, so long as you don't flub up again—"

"To Killika."

Kinoc went silent. The word stretched between us. Killika. Middle of nowhere. The end. I was already imagining myself as an old man (Back when I was a young'un I used to live in Bevelle). If I made it that long. The islands got hit by Sin all the time.

"I thank you for being such a friend to me, Kinoc—"

"Wait," he held up his hands, "Wait. Listen, we've to be able to get you out of this. We just need to slow down and think."

"Kinoc, this isn't negotiable. They're transferring me; it's an order."

"Wait," he grabbed my shoulders as I tried to push past him, "_Everything _is negotiable. We can fix this. I'll just go back and talk to him, I know some people—"

"No, Kinoc," I shrugged him off, "I better be going. See you around."

He let me leave. I wasn't sure where to go, but I just had to keep moving. Walk, don't run. Running is for boys. Keep it controlled. One foot, then the other. Breathe. Control. I didn't watch where my feet were going. Didn't matter as long as I kept moving. I didn't notice how long I'd been walking until my stomach growled. I looked up and noticed with surprise that I was on the High Bridge, and that the sun had gone down. A light wind was blowing off the water, pulling loose pieces of hair out of my ponytail and blowing them into my face. I put my hands on the rail and leaned on it. I let out one shuddering breath. Killika. The word even sounded bad. Like spitting out nails. Kill. Ik. Ka.

The light posts flickered on, and my reflection suddenly appeared on the dark water. Hmph. Kinoc was right. I did look stern. I chuckled. The High Priest might be angry, but his daughter was probably thanking Yevon that I had said no. I tried to smile. It looked strange.

The temple didn't have any lights inside, except for a few oil lamps hanging on the walls and whatever prayer candles had not yet burned themselves out. I wished that we could just put them out, so we wouldn't have to worry about the temple burning down, but to put out someone's prayer candle was to extinguish their prayer, so I just tried to avoid stepping in any puddles of wax, or brushing my clothes against any still-flickering flames. Unfortunately, I was thwarted by a rather large lump on the floor.

"Umph?"

The two of us ended up in a tangled heap, trying to extricate ourselves without hitting the candles or touching each other any more than we had to. I heard amused chuckling, "Are you alright?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know that there was anyone still praying in here," I stammered, trying to untangle myself from the man's long robes.

"It's quite alright. I suppose it has gotten dark in here," the man called up a ball of light in his hand, illuminating our faces, "Ah. Auron, is it not?"

"Ah, um, yes. Yes, I'm Auron," I sputtered. Great. Of all the people to run into . . .

He smiled patiently, "I'll guess by your expression that you already know who I am."

Of course I knew who he was. Everyone knew him. And if I was seen with him, forget a transfer, I could get kicked out of the Warrior Monks entirely! "Of course, Sir Braska. I'm sorry to interrupt your, uh, training."

"Oh, I wasn't training. Just . . ." he paused, looking off into the darkness, "Looking for guidance."

I wasn't sure how to answer. I've never been any good with things like that. And it's not even like I really knew the man. I knew he'd been a priest, years ago. Then he'd married an Al Bhed, and hadn't even converted her. There had reportedly been a child, though I'd never seen it. Then the wife had died, and Braska had begun the summoner's training. Everyone was shocked; even if you took his marriage out of the equation, Braska had never been what you would call orthodox. Why would the fayth bestow an aeon on someone who had married a heathen, anyway? How he had even begun his training was a mystery; I was under the impression that the temples wanted nothing to do with him. There were rumors that he had been excommunicated. Some said that he had begun the training as a sign of repentance for his "sinful" wedding. I doubted it. He didn't seem to be the sort of man who repents anything.

"Forgive me for being so bold, but we're both in quite the predicament, aren't we?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I answered shortly.

He pretended as though he hadn't heard my tone, "Not the same predicament, mind you. Though, if you ignore the small details, not too different. You see, I am the Fallen Priest. Married an Al Bhed and all that. And you," he turned to me, "Are a monk who has recently fallen out of grace yourself, are you not?"

My eyes narrowed, "How do you know about that?"

He seemed so calm, so nonchalant. It was infuriating. How can one be a complete outsider, cast aside by Yevon, and be so calm about it? "Well," he answered, "It doesn't take long for word to get around here. How funny, though, that I should be ostracized for marrying, and you for refusing to do so." He chuckled.

"I don't see what you find so funny!"

He shook his head, "Forgive me. I do not laugh at you, friend."

"Then what do you laugh at?" I bristled.

"Sometimes, laughing is all you can do."

The man had clearly been isolated too long; he was going insane. "You should be going now. Be careful in the dark," I answered.

"You too," he called, not rising from the floor. I turned and, while I didn't bolt, I certainly walked at a steady clip back to my room. There was something completely unnerving about him that I just couldn't put my finger on. I carefully walked down the Warrior Monks' corridor and entered my room. I silently changed and crawled on to the bed. My stomach rumbled.

"Be quiet, you," I commanded, turning over to study the wall. Six days left until I left this place; the only home I'd ever known, probably never to return. I felt a hard lump in my throat, and I tried to swallow it away. My chest hurt. I turned my face to the wall and tried to sleep.


	2. New Jobs All 'Round

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

**Chapter 2—New Jobs All 'Round**

Just because I was getting transferred didn't mean I was excused from my duties. I stood near the doorway to the temple, watching the faithful come in and out of the main prayer chamber.

"Ah, so we meet again."

I looked up and saw Sir Braska, dressed in the same floor-length robes that must have tripped me the night before. I curtly nodded. He chuckled, then turned and called to someone behind him, "Yuna!"

What appeared to be a small bundle of walking clothing squeezed its way through the crowd, a small hand leaping out from a too-long sleeve to grab his robes, hiding its face against his leg.

"Sorry," he smiled, "She's rather shy." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, "Yuna, I want you to meet someone. This is Auron. He's a Warrior Monk at the temple."

What was he doing? I was _not_ his friend and I was _not_ going to let him drag me down like this! Especially if _that _was the child . . .

"Auron, this is my daughter, Yuna," she stopped hiding her face, though she did not release her hold on her father's robe, "Hello," she ventured meekly.

"Hello," I answered, trying not to sound as harsh as I usually did. She was actually a pretty little girl, with brown hair and a gentle face. Her eyes were odd, but striking. I expected to see the typical Al Bhed eyes; pupilless, with a spiral, but her eyes were normal, except for the odd color. One was the bright green you normally see in the Al Bhed, the other was a startlingly bright blue. Though the eyes stood out, I never would have realized that she was Al Bhed. The two entered the temple.

Everyone gave them wide berth, but the little girl didn't seem to mind, as long as she was close to her father. She followed him closer than his shadow, mimicking his every move. With any other child, it would have been cute. But, because of her parentage, many whispered about what such imitations spelled for her future; would she mimic all that her father had done? Or worse, her mother?

When they left the temple, still acting completely oblivious to all the gossip, the little girl waved goodbye as she skipped to keep up with her father. Step, step, skip. Step, step, skip, until they were lost in the crowd and I couldn't see them anymore.

I continued to see Sir Braska around the temple every day. You may well think that this was odd, considering that we hadn't really met before this countdown week. I did. I couldn't figure out if I just hadn't been looking and noticing before, or if the man, probably desperate for a friend, was stalking me. On one hand, I was careless and inobservant. On the other I had a really creepy new "friend." I wasn't sure which was worse.

Well, at least the problem would be alleviated soon; I was supposed to leave Bevelle tomorrow. Kinoc and I had stopped talking about it. Stopped talking much at all, really. I couldn't stand the look in his eyes as they tried not to meet mine, the restless motions he made with his hands, trying to think of things to say. So we just didn't talk.

Remarkably, I found I was the object of some deluded fool's idol worship—apparently, being sent to Killika only elevated me further in his eyes; now I was a martyr as well as his role model. I suggested he stop analyzing my life and get one of his own. He just laughed and said, "See, that's exactly what I'm talking about! That's the Auron Masamune attitude!" He shook my hand four times before he finally left.

That had been three days ago. Day 4. 4 minus 3 means that now it's Day 1 and I'd be leaving tomorrow. I felt like hitting something. Hard. Preferably the High Priest.

"Preposterous! Who ever heard of such a thing?"

I turned and saw an . . .altercation . . .between a flustered-looking priest and the, as usual, calm Sir Braska, right on the temple stairs.

"What's so strange about wanting to go to the Cloister of Trials? I feel that six years of training is enough."

"Even if it weren't against the customs of the temple, I could not live with a clear conscience if I allowed you to enter! Not without any guardians!"

I don't know why I was surprised; no one would even talk to the man, let alone guard him. But, despite the isolation he must have felt, he never once showed an ounce of uncertainty. Even now, he stood on those steps, strong, resolute, and calm. Willing to fight for the "privilege" to die for a people that hated him. What did he hope to gain? What was he trying to prove? Why did he do all this? Asking myself just what exactly I thought I was doing, I walked through the doorway and up the steps, "I'm sorry, am I late, milord?"

The priest and Braska both looked so perplexed I had to smother the urge to smile, "For the Trials," I clarified, "I'm sorry to have held you up, Braska."

The priest looked like his rather bushy eyebrows were about to pop off his head; Braska showed only a quick whisper of expression on his face before composing himself. The priest stuttered, "Y-you are Sir Braska's Guardian?"

I leaned forward, balancing my katana on my shoulder, "Is that a problem?"

"Nooo," he drug out, before reclaiming himself, "Does Captain Liam know about this?"

"Starting," I looked out at the afternoon sun, "at sunset, I will no longer be under Captain Liam's jurisdiction. Actually," I leaned my sword on the ground, even though I know it dulled the blade, "If you'd be kind enough to tell him I quit, I'll be out from under his jurisdiction now."

"I-I—yes. Go in, now. May Yevon's blessing be with you." After the fastest execution of the prayer I'd ever seen, he nearly ran toward the Warrior Monk's part of the temple.

"I—Auron, I do not . . ."

I walked past him, refusing to look at his face too closely, "Well, you can get into the Cloisters now. Let's go."

I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye, "Let's go, then."

The puzzles were a little irritating, but nothing impossibly difficult. I suppose no one _really_ wants to keep a potential summoner from receiving the aeon. The difficult part came next—the waiting.

Braska had been in there probably five minutes when I started practicing with my sword. He was still in there when I started counting the tiles on the floor. He was still in there when I reached 1,846. 7. 8. I wished I'd brought something to do. A book, maybe? A newspaper? I'd settle for sharpening and polishing my katana if I'd had those things with me, but they were packed in my bag. I didn't know when I packed that bag that I'd be going to Zanarkand, not Killika. I hung my head. How do I always manage to get myself into these messes? This never would have happened to Kinoc. Obviously. He would have agreed to marry the girl, so he wouldn't have run into Sir Braska, and would not have volunteered to be his guardian.

I was startled out of my moping when the Chamber of the Fayth opened and Braska stumbled out, pale and sweating. I stood up.

"Did you receive the aeon?"

He nodded, apparently too exhausted to speak. Would he even make it back up to the surface? While I probably could, I really didn't want to try and carry him back to the temple. His mouth worked for a second before he whispered, "You don't happen to have any water . . .?"

I tossed him the standard-issue canteen I had with me. He gulped it down like he was dying of thirst. Huh. Maybe he was. It was slow going, but we did make it back to the surface, and I didn't have to carry him.

The same solitary priest who had sent us off stood by the entrance to welcome us. He led Braska to the center of the temple, an area easily large enough to perform the summoning. Braska took a deep breath and began spinning his staff through the air. A rushing wind filled the room. I held my coat around myself; was this a summoning?

A huge creature flew out of the sky, landing beside Braska with an earth-shattering crash. Despite its size, it landed gracefully, and stood with the proud air of a prince. No, not a prince, a king. Bahaumut, King of Dragons. I remember thinking that I had never seen anything as incredible as this when the dragon nodded his head in acknowledgment of the man who had called him. Braska had called, and this unbelievable power had answered. When Braska bowed to him—in welcome? In thanks?—Bahaumut executed a small bow of his own, and then was gone, in another gale-force wind.

The priest stepped forward, "You have demonstrated your strength, your will, and your ability. Go now, with all the blessings of Yevon," he drew his hand in a complex symbol over Braska's head, "_Lord_ Braska."


	3. Why He Fights

Disclaimer: See chapter one

**Chapter 3—Why He Fights**

"Well then," Lord Braska smiled at me, after the witnesses to the summoning had left, "I suppose you won't be going back to the barracks tonight. You are welcome to stay in my home, if you like."

"I . . .thank you. Can you wait here while I get my things?"

"Of course. Actually," he smiled, "The short rest would be most welcome."

I nodded and left him sitting on a small bench just outside the main worship rooms, as I went back to my bag. Attached to the door was a note; "Notice: In light of your recent abandonment of the Holy Order of the Warrior Monks, it is asked that you return all parts and pieces of the Warrior Monk uniform, as well as any gear regularly distributed to any of Bevelle's holy warriors. Deliver them to Captain Liam's office by noon on the day following delivery of this note, or additional fines will be incurred." Charming.

I didn't take long to come back outside, but Braska was already nodding off when I returned. I shook him awake, "My lord."

He blinked hard, and used my outstretched hand to rise, "Oh, I'm sorry, Auron. Not much future for a summoner who's already falling asleep on the job, is there?" He laughed.

"My lord?"

"Yes?"

"I cannot lead you to your place of residence. I do not know where it is."

"Ah! So sorry. This way," he walked slowly, but seemingly without much difficulty, leading me to a large building. I recognized it as one of the large apartment complexes where wealthy visitors stayed. My surprise must have been apparent, because he laughed again.

"Well, _I_ may be a heretic, but my family has a long history of service in Bevelle, believe it or not. Even prodigal sons get inheritances."

"Clearly," I looked with wide eyes. Even the smallest of the apartments here were like entire houses. Considering that almost everyone in Bevelle seemed to live in the temple, or an extension of it, it was a very wealthy family indeed who could afford to live outside its walls.

Braska chuckled to himself as he put his palm flat on a panel to the side of the door to open it. "Oh," he called over his shoulder as we walked in, "We'll have to pick up Yuna on the way. Hope you don't mind." I shook my head. He gestured for me to stand beside him on a particularly large, ornate floor tile. Just when I was about to ask what exactly we were standing there for, it moved.

Not like an earthquake. It literally moved, straight up a shaft in the ceiling that seemed to be made for this purpose. I stared as we flew past different colors of frosted glass. What was this thing?

"The colors tell you which floor is coming up," Braska said conversationally, "We're waiting for . . .green!" The glass turned green and Braska pressed some sort of switch near where he stood. The tile did not fall, it simply stayed in place, frozen in the air at this hallway. Despite the fact that I was gaping like some sort of country yokel, Braska didn't laugh. He simply stated that it was "much more convenient then the stairs, though it couldn't hold very many people."

"Yuna," he said, walking down the hall, "Stays with one of ladies here when she's not in school and I'm at the temple. Sometimes, other people's kindness will surprise you."

One of the doors down the hallway opened just a crack, though I didn't see anyone step out. Then I realized that I had looked too high; the one peeking out was very small, with one green eye and one blue eye. She quickly ducked back in. When Braska knocked on the door, high pitched squeals could be heard from within. A small voice, obviously trying to impersonate a more adult one called, "Who is it?"

"Well, it's just Braska from the seventh floor. You see, I'm in a most embarrassing predicament. I seem to have misplaced my daughter. Would you know where she is?"

"Hmmm . . .I dunno. What's she look like?"

"What's she look like? Hmm, I think . . ." he suddenly pulled the door open, "She looks like the little rascal just behind this door!" He picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, tickling her all the way. Her delighted squeals seemed to take all the weariness right out of him.

"Goodness, whatever could be happening?" An older woman stepped out of her kitchen and into the hallway.

Yuna looked up, tossing the hair out of her face, "Papa's home!" she crowed.

"Why, I never would have guessed. He snuck right in! Didn't hear a peep out of him," she smiled at Braska, "Why dontcha rest up a bit, hm? I'll have something whipped up for you in just a second." She looked over his shoulder at me, still standing rather awkwardly in the doorway. "You too, hon. Just come on in!"

"Sorry for intruding—" I began, bowing stiffly, my bag still over one shoulder.

"Ah! You're not intruding!" She waved me off, "And growing boys need their food. I've had four boys that were all your age at one time or another, and I know they need to eat!" She laughed and started busying herself with some plates in the kitchen. She passed plates out to Braska and I, as Yuna kept on talking about . . .things. I wasn't really listening. I have a sneaking suspicion that Braska wasn't either, though he seemed to nod at all the right times enough to appease his daughter.

When the woman handed him his plate, he stopped her with a hand on the wrist, "Thank you," he said quietly.

"Oh, don't mention it."

"Thank you, Marin. For everything."

Her eyes got a little misty, "Now, don't go talkin' like that, ya hear? I . . . Braska. Look at her," she pointed to the little girl, who had fallen asleep against his knee, "That little girl already lost a mother. Don't make her lose a father, too."

He shook his head, "If I can make the thing that took her mother go away, won't it be worth it? For her to wake up everyday in a world where she doesn't have to worry about having people taken from her, as her mother was taken from me?" The woman looked like she wanted to say something, but stopped herself as he continued, "She has very few choices now, because of who I am. If I became High Summoner, she would be barred nothing. I'm doing this because I want to create a good world for her," he stroked Yuna's hair, shining in the bright light that cam from various orbs hanging about the room.

"If you need anyone to take care of her, you know I will, Braska."

He tapped Marin's hand thoughtfully, "For a time, if you could. While I'm on pilgrimage, I'll be looking for other places for her. No matter which way my pilgrimage goes, I don't want her to be here, under constant scrutiny. I'll send word back when I've found a place for her."

Marin took a deep breath, "Alright. You make sure, though," she shook a finger at him in warning, "You make sure you tell her. I don't want to have to explain to her where her Papa's gone."

"Yuna and I have talked about it many times. She knows what a summoner's duty entails," Braska ran his fingers through Yuna's hair, almost reminding himself that she was there.

"Well, thank you again, Marin, but I think we've imposed upon you enough for one evening. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Are you . . .?"

"I plan to leave the morning following tomorrow. I'm just . . .rather tired at the moment. I do not think I could arise at dawn."

"Alright, honey. You just . . .you make sure you rest up. You, too, young man," she looked at me, "And . . .take care of him, won't you?"

I nodded, "'Protect the summoner even at the cost of one's life.' The instructions leave little room for erroneous interpretation."

She smiled a little uncertainly, "I'll see you boys in the morning."

We left and walked back to the flying floor tile, this time getting off at the orange floor, and made our way to an apartment several doors down, Braska managing to carry his sleeping daughter despite his weariness. I would have offered to carry her, but, weary or not, he probably wanted all the moments he could have with her before he left. Besides, if I carried her, she would probably wake and be frightened. I seemed to have that effect on children.

"Here we go . . ." Braska mumbled half to me and half to himself, keying in the code to open the door, "Home sweet home."


	4. We're Going To See Who?

Disclaimer: See chapter one. 

**Chapter 4—We're Going To See Who?**

I woke to find the little girl--Yuna--staring at my face. I flinched back, and she frowned, "You're doing the thing again."

I furrowed my brow, "The thing . . .?"

"Gah!" She clapped her hands over her face, "You're doing it worse!" She reached out one small finger and rubbed between my eyebrows, "Go 'way, wrinkle!"

I tried to relax my face, but the more I thought about it, the more I could feel that little crease between my brows. I couldn't make it go away.

Yuna sat back on her feet, defeated, "I guess it only goes away when you're sleeping."

". . .Is that why you were watching me?"

She flushed, but nodded, "Uh-huh."

"Um . . .where's your father?"

"Papa's still sleeping. Marin said he'd be tired, so I left him alone."

Too bad she didn't give me the same courtesy. I sat up and stretched, looking around. Braska had offered me his bed, but of course I took the couch. By the time he'd gotten Yuna back to bed last night, he looked ready to faint. I noticed Yuna looking up at me hopefully.

". . .I don't suppose you've had breakfast yet, have you?" She shook her head, not taking her eyes off me.

"Alright. Do you know if there's anything in the kitchen?" She nodded and led me toward the apartment's not-insignificant kitchen space.

"I can't reach anything, and I'm not allowed to climb on the chairs. Because," she pointed at a barely-discernable line across her bottom lip, "I fell and did _this_ last time."

Well, after a little trial and error, I figured out where Braska kept various things and managed to make a decent breakfast. Yuna was happily eating pancakes when Braska walked in, still rubbing his eyes,

"Papa!" Yuna jumped up and gave her father a hug, her sticky hands and face getting syrup all over his nightclothes.

He ruffled her hair, "I'm sorry, Auron, you could have woken me . . ."

"Well, I would have," I kept my face tactfully turned away, wiping the counter as an excuse, "But with all that snoring . . ."

Yuna laughed and joined in the game, "Yeah, Papa, you sounded like this!" She snored uproariously for effect.

"Like a shoopuf with a head cold," I agreed, still keeping my face turned away as I piled a plate for Braska.

Braska smiled and sat down, "You do have a sense of humor. That certainly makes the next few months look rather more enjoyable." He took a bite of his pancakes, "As does the fact that you can cook! If this is an example of your culinary skills, you're stuck on cooking duty for good."

"Well, if your only alternative was rationed cafeteria food, you'd learn to cook, too."

Braska laughed, "I suppose I would. Oh, by the way," he poured himself a glass of juice, "I'd like to take a stop by the detention block, will you accompany me?"

"I am your guardian," I answered, "But if I may ask my lord, why the detention block?"

"There's a prisoner there that I'm interested in seeing. It shouldn't take long."

Dear Yevon, the kind of friends this man picks up. I nodded, "As you wish. But first, my lord, allow me to get some new clothes," I gestured toward my uniform, "I can now longer wear this." No emotion. I kept trying to tell myself it didn't matter. No turning back now, anyway.

"Oh, of course!" He said, "We'll go to the shopping arcade first."

"No need for you to go, my lord," I protested, "I'll be back in an hour."

He nodded, "If you insist."

I got myself put together as well as I could for wearing the same clothes I'd slept in, and went to the shopping arcade. I didn't want to spend very much money, considering that we would be needing it during the months ahead, but I quickly spotted a sign, "Today only! Shirts 20 gil! Pants 30 gil!" Just my price range.

I picked up several outfits and went up to the counter. The girl looked at the pile of clothes and laughed, "Black is the new black, huh? Don't you like any other colors?"

"Is there a problem with black?" I raised an eyebrow.

"No . . ." she trailed, "But it's going to be too cold for these tanks pretty soon. Do you have a coat?"

I started to answer yes, then remembered that that, too, belonged to the Warrior Monks, " . . .No."

"Here," she pulled me over to a display near the counter, "These are on sale, too. Originally 250, now 190."

They were nice jackets. _Jackets for guardians._ I thought, before roughly shaking the thought away. Guardians didn't have uniforms like the warrior monks. But still, they called. Big, wide sleeves that could be tightened or loosed depending on whether you wanted them loose for resting or tight for working, for fighting, for protecting a summoner. A long flowing coat that I could already see furling dramatically behind me like I was some sort of hero from a legend. Gray. Gray was a good, calm color. I started reaching for that one.

"Why don't you try the red one?" The girl suggested, "It would look really good against the black, especially with your coloring."

Red? But red was vibrant and loud and unnecessary. Red was the stupid inner Auron who secretly thought that hovers and tattoos were cool. No one could know of red Auron. But now I couldn't stop looking at it.

"Listen," the girl sighed, "Your wardrobe is going to need some color. I'll give it to for 150 if you just buy the red. I can't let you leave here looking like you're going to a sending. Besides," she looked up at me through her eyelashes, "It would look really nice with your dark hair and eyes."

Well, 40 gil is 40 gil. " . . .Fine. Do you have a fitting room?"

She smiled, "Right this way. I'll ring you up while you change."

I carried my uniform under my arm (including my boots, which I'd had to buy replacements for as well) to the Temple.

I walked into Captain Liam's office, piled my things on his desk and made to leave, when Liam sopped me," Auron, have you gone mad?"

I didn't turn. "Excuse me?"

"You know this pilgrimage will fail."

Yes. And I also know that you were ready to send me to Killika. Practically a death sentence. Certainly my career's death sentence. "I know that I am a guardian, and my summoner is awaiting me."

He didn't try to stop me again.

It wasn't much later that Braska and I were walking down to the detention block--where people were kept until the courts figured out what to do with them. For someone to be kept there for very long was unusual. This man had probably only been here a day or two. And the moment we walked in, I knew why.

"Saaaaaaaaaakeeeeeeeee!"

"My lord, are we here for . . .?"

Braska nodded, "He claims to be from Zanarkand."

A female crusader was standing by as a warden, "His blasphemy has been attributed to his drunkenness up until now, but he's had more than enough time to sober up. We do know, however, that there was a Sin attack out on the coast. He may have wandered in from one of the villages there."

"Toxin?" I wondered.

"We are, as yet, uncertain," She nodded toward me, "But it may be so."

Braska walked up to the cell with the groaning man inside.

He looked up at Braska with bleary eyes, "Who're you?"

I bristled. I already didn't like this man. Not one bit. Whether he was under the influence of the toxin or not, everyone knew what a summoner's staff meant, and that deserved respect.

Braska didn't seem to notice, "You are the one they call Jecht, the man from Zanarkand, are you not?"

The man shrugged carelessly, "What of it?"

"Watch your tongue, knave!" I ran forward. Even if Braska did have a reputation as one of the fallen, he was a summoner, and deserved to be treated as such. It's not personal. It is the duty of a guardian to uphold his summoner's honor as well as his safety. But Braska just looked at me. Like you look at a small child who has said something highly entertaining, but also highly inappropriate. I felt rebuked.

"My apologies. I am Braska, a summoner. I've come to take you from this place."

What!? I tried not to betray my shock. After all, he was my summoner; I was to support his actions. Especially since it was Braska, and anyone else was unlikely to do so. But really, we came here to free some raving drunk from a prison sentence he probably deserves?

But the prisoner perked right up. "Sounds sweet. What's the catch?"

Braska laughed to himself, a soft sort of sound. A calming sort of sound. But a little frightening considering the circumstances. What was he doing!? "That easy to see, was it? I soon leave on a pilgrimage . . .to Zanarkand."

This time I could not hide my shock. I felt my eyes widen. Oh dear Yevon, please don't say that he's actually suggesting . . .!

The man moved forward to the bars, looking at Braska with hopeful, desperate eyes, "Seriously?"

Braska nodded. I felt frozen, or perhaps like everything around me was moving much faster than I could, so I couldn't do anything when he began to speak.

"I would like you to join us. It will be a dangerous trip," he warned, "Yet if we do reach Zanarkand, my prayers will be answered, and you will be able to go home, we think." Again with that infuriating habit of simply assuming that I agreed with whatever he said. I hadn't even known that we were coming to see this man, much less have time to come up with a theory about whether this drunkard actually was from Zanarkand (no) and whether or not the ruined Zanarkand to the north would be the one he was looking for (again, probably no).

"What say you?

Before I could even hope that he'd say no, the man jumped, "Great, let's go!"

Even Braska raised his eyebrows in surprise, "So quick?"

"Anything to get out of here," Jecht answered flippantly, hopping around his cell.

Braska just shrugged, "Then it's settled."

I finally found my voice, "But I must protest . . .this drunkard, a guardian?" The fact that he considered us both perfectly acceptable candidates for guardianship was more than a little disturbing. What did he see about the two of us that could even be compared?

Said drunkard stopped his happy "I'm free" dance and tried to look threatening, "Hey! You wanna come in here and say that?"

Braska didn't look at either of us. "What does it really matter? No one truly believes that I, a fallen summoner wed to an Al Bhed could possibly defeat Sin. This is what they say. No one expects us to succeed."

"Braska, sir . . ." I tried once again. Really, if I was supposed to redeem myself by guarding a summoner (I'm not one to be ashamed of announcing my motivations), he had best not journey thinking he's going to fail. And besides, despite everything, I was actually beginning to like Braska.

He set his jaw defiantly, "Let's show them they're wrong. A fallen summoner, a man from Zanarkand, and a warrior monk, doomed to obscurity for refusing the hand of the hand of the priest's daughter." His face lit up like an excited schoolgirl, "What delightful irony it would be if we defeated Sin!"

Jecht seemed to have little interest in Braska's vision. "Stop gabbin' and get me outta here!"

It didn't take long to process Jecht and get him out of prison. Jecht stretched out his muscles as soon as the sunlight hit his skin, "Ahh, free at last!"

"Now, Jecht . . .I am in your hands until we reach Zanarkand," Braska reminded him. I suppose he wanted to make sure his investment—Jecht's bail—didn't go to waste. I was beginning to wonder if it already had. Scratch that. I was _certain_ it already had.

"Right, right." He answered irreverently, as if we were the crazy ones. I bristled. We hadn't been the ones ranting about living in a city a thousand years dead! "So . . .what's a summer-ner, anyway?"

I probably would have hit him upside the head if he hadn't looked so serious.


	5. The Last Night

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

**Chapter 5—The Last Night**

Since this was to be Braska's last night in Bevelle, Yuna had crawled into his bed to spend the night. Judging by the look on his face when he'd found her there, waiting for him with pleading eyes, he didn't mind at all. And in any case, it opened up a bed, so no one would have to sleep on the floor.

But despite the fact that I was in another room, with the door closed, I could still hear Jecht snoring away on the couch. When Yuna and I had laughed at Braska the previous morning, we'd been joking; this was true snoring. If there ever had been a shoopuf with a head cold, it would have sounded like Jecht. I could only hope Braska and Yuna had fallen asleep before the snoring started.

But ten minutes later, it did not matter if Braska could sleep or not, because _I_ couldn't. I pushed the pink bedspread aside, picked my way across the pony-strewn floor, and finally stood beside the noisy monstrosity itself. His mouth was hanging wide open, and drool, still laden with far too much alcohol, was dribbling out of the side of his mouth. I wrinkled my nose. Disgusting. But I reached out my hand and firmly pinched his nose shut.

He woke with a snort, his arms flailing, "Whad duh . . .heeeeeeeeeey . . .leggo by dose! Why'd yoo wake be ub?"

I released his nose, "You were snoring."

"Bah!" he rubbed his nose, "I don't snore."

My eyebrows twitched, "Do you call me a liar, then?"

"Jeez, don't be so uptight, man."

"Lord Braska needs rest, as do I." I grabbed him and turned him onto his side, jamming the sofa's cushions behind him so he could not turn back.

"What the—?"

"If you sleep on your side, you can't snore." I answered, and went back to Yuna's room to sleep through the quiet remainder of the night.

It was still very dark when I awakened the next morning, but Braska had wanted to leave early. He said it was because he didn't want to spend more nights in Macalania then he had to—those woods are cold—but I think he also wanted to leave before Yuna was really wake. It would be better that way.

I had to shake Jecht awake. It was tempting to just push him clear off the couch, but that would have woken Yuna. He almost did anyway, the way he whined about how early it was and why was I waking him _again_ and did I know how early it was? When I went to check on Braska, I found him already awake, just running his fingers through Yuna's hair as she talked sleepily.

"You going already?"

"Yes, I have to leave very early."

"'Kay," She reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck. I'm not sure what she told him, but I know that whatever it was it made him hug her very hard and tears stood in his eyes when he kissed her forehead and pulled the blanket back over her.

He blinked them away and nodded toward me, "Let us go, then."

We narrowly avoided a long goodbye with Marin as she made her way back up to Braska's apartment to help take care of Yuna, and were soon walking, subdued, along a silent Highroad. At least, Braska and I were subdued. Jecht was looking all over the place with a sphere camera like some sort of tourist.

"What are you taking?"

He turned and focused the camera back on Braska and I, "Well, you said it was going to be a long trip," he paused as though that should be an obvious reason for taking along a camera. When I didn't make the jump he was making, he began to elaborate, "We'll be seeing a lot of _neat_ things, right? Thought I'd record it all in this, to show to my wife and kid, you know."

I wanted to explode with anger. What was wrong with this idiot? We were on a journey that we probably would not return from—we were, after all, supposed to be willing to die for our summoner whenever necessary—and he was walking around with some sphere-cam . . .come to think of it, how had he bought that? Or any of the liquor he'd been drinking the night before? It had to have been Braska's own pocket money, because, let's be clear, I didn't give him any. Why would Lord Braska bring such an irreverent, flippant burden along with him? "This is no pleasure cruise!"

He chose to ignore me, a reaction that I somehow found even more irritating than his whiney complaints, "Hey Braska."

I bristled again. He wasn't giving Braska any sort of respect at all, despite that Braska, first, was a summoner, second, had freed him from prison, and third, had apparently allowed a complete stranger to get drunk and buy several things, including a weapon, armor, and a sphere cam, on his gil?

But Braska just turned toward the camera and looked expectantly.

"Ain't this supposed to be a grand occasion? Where're the screaming fans? The crying women?"

I might have been fuming, but Braska just looked amused. Why was it that every time I seemed to be most angry, Braska just seemed to laugh? "This is it." He gestured toward the empty streets. "Too many goodbyes—people think twice about leaving."

"Hmm . . ." Jecht almost seemed to think. No, I must have been imagining things. He shook his head, "If you say so. Well, it better be a lot more colorful when we come back." He raised one arm in a cheering motion, "A parade for Braska, vanquisher of Sin!"

I almost caught my breath. There were some things about a summoner that we hadn't explained to Jecht. Neither of us had explained what happens at the end of a summoner's journey. I don't know whether we simply expected him to remember, or if Braska, like I, figured that Jecht wouldn't last long enough on this journey to need it explained to him.

But again, Braska brought attention away from the tension by laughing, "We should go. Day will break soon."

Jecht turned off the camera and put it in the pack he carried. "Why did we have to leave so early again?"

Before I could answer, Braska stepped in smoothly, "Trust me, when you've gotten into Macalania, you will be glad that we will not be stopping there for any more nights than we have to. Better to take advantage of the warmth of the day."

"What's in Macalania?" Jecht asked, sounding a little less whiney.

"A temple of the fayth," answered Braska, not slowing his stride, "Remember we said that I must pray to the fayth in every temple before I can go to the final trial in Zanarkand?" He didn't wait for Jecht to affirm this. Just as well, since the sake he'd consumed the night before had probably killed that particular bunch of brain cells. "One of the fayth I need to pray to is in the temple on the frozen lake in Macalania."

"Frozen?" Jecht's mouth dropped open in disbelief, "At this time of year?"

"Lake Macalania is frozen over year-round," I explained, "Because of the fayth. Macalania's fayth has an affinity with ice."

"Oh," Jecht was quiet for a few precious moments while he seemed to mull this over. Maybe he didn't know what 'affinity' meant. "Wait!" He suddenly stopped, "Is it going to be snowing in these woods we're going to? I'm not exactly dressed for that, you know."

"No," I rolled my eyes, though since I wasn't facing him, he didn't see it. "The fayth's influence extends only so far. The woods aren't as cold as the temple itself, but they still get a frost from time to time."

"Oh, have you been into the woods before?" Braska inquired interestedly.

I nodded, "The warrior monks take turns standing guard at the border between Bevelle and Macalania, or patrolling the woods to keep any fiends from getting too close to the city."

"Ah," Braska nodded in understanding. We were silent for a little longer as the ground became rougher under our feet, changing from a cobbled street to an unpaved path. Soon we were walking along the path to the temple, lit not by the sun, whose light was blocked out by the intertwining branches anyway, but by the silvery light of the shining trees.

Jecht was staring about himself slack-jawed, and for once, I could not blame him. The beauty of the woods is breathtaking, even for one who has seen it many times. "What is this place?" He whispered.

"This," Braska smiled, "Is the Crystal Forest of Macalania."


	6. The Friggin' Cold Forest of Macalania

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

**Chapter 6—The Friggin' Cold Forest of Macalania**

"It's friggin' cold man!" Jecht jumped foot to foot, rubbing his arms.

I sighed in aggravation. Obviously his wonder at the forest's beauty hadn't been able to distract him from its temperature. "Stop that."

He glared at me, "You want me to freeze to death? That's cold, man. That's real cold."

"If you keep moving, we might be able to reach shelter before night falls." Well, there was about a 2 percent chance that I could have reached the inn if it had been just me, but with Jecht dawdling like he was, and even Braska, who was unused to such exertions, there was no way. I hoped it would make Jecht shut up for a while. No such luck.

"Hey Braska." Braska tilted his head toward Jecht.

"Do all monks act like that?" He pointed at me.

"Like what?"

"So friggin' cold, man. Auron needs to get laid or somethin'. Oh, wait," he paused, "Are monks not allowed to do that? Is that why he's in such a bad mood all the time?"

My eyebrow started twitching uncontrollably, but I didn't turn. I hadn't yet thought of anything strong enough to call Jecht's particular brand of idiocy.

I could hear Braska trying to cover up his laughter, "Ah, no. Auron is . . .unique in his temperament. And there aren't any rules holding the warrior monks to celibacy. If there were, we probably wouldn't have any to defend us."

Jecht was quiet for a moment, then continued on the same thread, "Well, it's no wonder anyway with a 'temperament' like that. Auron, you need to get laid, man. Maybe you just need some pointers from the master."

"Didn't you say you were married, Jecht?" I asked, cutting a branch that had begun to grow across the path.

"Yeah, well . . ." he trailed off a little, but came back with all that irritating arrogance, "Can't leave all those fans bereft of _me_, can I?"

"Huh." Oh, yes, he seems terribly bereft without his wife. I felt sorry for her for a moment. Then I decided if she was fool enough to marry him, she probably deserved him. I thanked Yevon that I had said no to marriage, no matter what the consequences were proving to be. It seemed to be a meaningless waste of time and effort.

Jecht kept alternating between speculations about my sex life and whining about the cold for the better part of the next hour. I tried my best to ignore him and keep my eyes and ears open for fiends. If I was lucky, one might manage to kill him.

Jecht was getting louder by the minute, and it exceedingly difficult to ignore someone when they hang on your shoulders and talk right at your face. "I mean, dude, that's just inhuman, ya know. I mean, how long's it been since you've been with a woman? Unless you're a homo. Are you a homo?"

"Will you SHUT UP!?" _Shut up . . .shut up . . .shuh uh . . ._

The three of us stood completely still as my words echoed. 'Strange,' I wondered absently, 'Normally sounds would be deadened with all these trees. Maybe because they aren't normal trees?'

"Whoa. Okay man, okay," Jecht backed off. "Didn't think you'd be so touchy. I mean, if that's how you are—"

"Be silent, you fool."

"Hey!" He gestured angrily, "I'm trying to apologize here!"

I impatiently held a hand up for silence.

"Auron?" Braska ventured, when I did not resume walking.

"It's quiet."

"Yeah, it's quiet," Jecht snarked, "We get it. Can we move on, now?"

"No," I peered into the trees around us, "It's too quiet. Listen." We stood for another moment. "No birds. Not so much as an insect."

The silence didn't last much longer.

A huge roaring filled the treetops, and a huge fiend dropped tight on top of us, bladed limbs flying.

"Run!" I pushed Jecht away and drew my sword, catching one of the Rondo's blades on my own and tossing him away from the other two.

"Go!" I shouted over my shoulder. Still they paused. "Jecht!" He looked up at me, startled, "Your job is to protect Braska! Go!"

Finally, I saw them go around the last bend in the path from the corner of my eye. It wasn't that one fiend, even a particularly nasty one, was that dangerous. It was just that I had two inexperienced fighters that were more likely to get us, all of us, hurt than to actually help.

The Rondo and I sort of played a back and forth game. I had the stronger weapon by far; one or two good hits and I could kill him. The problem was that I had to hit him first. Rondos are very fast, and one of the disadvantages of a large sword is that it is slow.

"Hey, what's taking you so long?" Jecht walked back into the clearing.

"What are you doing? Where's Lord Braska?"

"I'm here, Auron," Braska's voice floated from somewhere behind me.

I cursed, "I realize you have a short attention span, Jecht, but I would think you could remember a simple order."

"Aw, save it," Jecht got out his sword, "My job's to protect Braska, right? So that's what I'm doing! Besides, it looks like you're having some trouble here."

"I'll have more trouble if I have to worry about someone getting in the way!" I ground out, impatiently, taking another swing at the Rondo and missing. Again. What I wouldn't give for Kinoc and his crossbow (1).

"You can't swing that huge sword fast enough. Let one of us slow it down," Braska said, muttering some words to himself before one of the Rondo's blade-limbs abruptly caught on fire. It screamed, more in anger than in pain, but it did the job. It couldn't jump as nimbly from foot to foot when one of them was out of commission. Jecht tried to take a swing at it, but with as little practice as he'd had with that sword—I had to wonder what he'd done back home—the blade hardly cut the thing at all, and the Rondo had plenty of time to take its own swing at him, catching him on the chest and sending him flying down the path. I ran up and finished the job, not bothering to wait for the pyreflies to scatter before making my way back over to Jecht.

"Are you alright?" I offered my hand.

He took it and let me hoist him back up, "Yeah. He cut me up a little, but nothing major."

My eyes narrowed, "Let me see."

Jecht almost smirked, though his eyes looked nervous, "Gee, that desperate to check me out Auron?"

I socked him and he almost fell back on the ground. He looked up at me with shocked eyes.

"You idiot. Rondos have poisonous claws. I'm checking to see if you've been poisoned. Though it may just be easier to wait until you drop dead."

I started to walk away, trying not to listen to him panicking behind me, asking Braska if he thought he was poisoned, is he sure he isn't poisoned is he really sure. I couldn't even take any satisfaction in his blubbering. It just made me angrier. But anger didn't help anything, so I tried to breathe deeply, keep walking, and ignore the two behind me as much as my duties as a guardian would allow.

After a while, Braska got Jecht settled down, but the heavy silence remained. The two of them started up several conversations, none of which I really listened to and most of which died in a matter of moments. I could feel the two of them sending cautious looks at my back, but I pretended not to notice, since noticing just made me angrier. I kept going until I felt Braska's hand on my shoulder.

"Auron?"

I stopped.

"It's getting dark, I think we should set up camp."

Even angrier with myself for being so wrapped up in my own anger that I didn't notice this simple fact, I simply nodded stiffly and looked about. I knew this area. "There is a clearing not far from here that the warrior monks often use. If it is not occupied, we'll be able to set up camp there."

I turned down a small footpath, leading off the main road, and, sure enough, the clearing was empty. We managed to set up a decent campsite and get some food in our bellies without incident.

"Jecht."

I'd used all my will to speak calmly, but still he nearly flinched at the sound of my voice.

"We need to keep watch. I'll wake you in a few hours."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, but without the usual taunting ring. He and Braska crawled into their respective sleeping bags and fell asleep almost instantly. I knew not to expect any better. Really, I was the only one who was used to this. I just hoped I was strong enough to carry the other two.

Of course, Braska wasn't exactly dead weight. He would be able to summon, and had proved that he could use at least some black magic. But it was the journeying, not the fighting, that would wear him down. I just hoped we could ditch Jecht somewhere. But where?

No temple would take him, not if he continued to spout that nonsense about Zanarkand. Perhaps I could distract Braska and "lose" Jecht somewhere along the trail? Then again, bringing Jecht along had been the wish of a summoner, and one does not deny a summoner his wishes lightly, for obvious reasons. But why had he wanted to bring Jecht along in the first place?

I had to stop that train of thought. Braska's motivations were no concern of mine. My only concern was to keep him safe, and to do my part to make the pilgrimage a success. With that thought in mind I temporarily dismissed Jecht from my thoughts. I was surprised, a few hours later, when I woke him. He didn't whine, or flail, or give me dirty looks. He just got up and went over to the fire.

"Wake me up again when the moon dips below the treetops," I pointed at the tall trees to the west. He nodded.

"Make sure you don't fall asleep."

He scowled, "I won't. Now catch forty already, will ya?"

I looked at him doubtfully, but I must have been more tired than I knew, because the next thing I saw was Jecht's face leaning over mine as he shook my shoulder, stage-whispering my name.

I barely held down a yawn and walked over to the fire, hoping the movement would wake me.

"Hey, Auron?"

"Yes?" I said, carefully masking the weariness in my voice.

"I'm sorry. About earlier today. I know I was being a jerk."

"Yes. Yes you were."

"Hey!" He looked like he was going to continue but I cut him off and gestured toward Braska, who was still sleeping.

"We may not be friends, but we have a job to do here. I will try my best to tolerate you, but you must do your best to not be completely unbearable. Are we agreed?"

He glared, "Fine by me," and stomped off to his own sleeping bag. He tossed and turned angrily for a few moments, but weariness got the better of him soon enough. I looked up at the night sky. Just until dawn. Just have to stay awake until dawn. Don't think about the next day. Just until dawn.

I got up and paced around a few times to keep myself awake. It seemed like forever before the first few pink stripes began snaking their way across the sky. When it was really light, or as light as it got under the canopy of the forest, I woke the other two.

When I shook Jecht awake, he seemed surprised to see that it was light. "You stayed up this whole time?"

I shrugged and went back to the fire to fix up some kind of breakfast.

"Seriously, man, you stayed up this whole time?"

"Auron stayed up all night?" Braska looked concerned.

"I did not. I woke Jecht up for a shift."

"Yeah, for two, maybe three hours! He watched the rest of the night."

Braska walked up and looked into my face. I tried to wish away my itching, bloodshot eyes. But Braska didn't reprove me; he simply shook his head, "Don't exhaust yourself, Auron. We're more then glad to help. You could have woken me instead of taking two shifts."

I shook my head, "My job is to protect you, not the other way around." He let the subject drop.

We packed up camp and walked all of five minutes before . . .

"It's friggin' cold man!"

* * *

(1) I totally made that up. I just figured that Kinoc would not be using machina so blatantly this early in his career, especially not in front of his uber-uptight friend. So he gets a crossbow. 


	7. No Fighting In The Temple!

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

**Chapter 7—No Fighting In The Temple!**

"Holy mother of . . .does this ever end?"

The fiends had attacked us again; third time that morning. I don't know if the Monks simply stopped once they had cleared the general vicinity of Bevelle, or if the fiends were somehow more attracted to the area near the temple. The former seemed far more likely.

"Remember," I called over to Jecht, "Let the sword do the work."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. He had looked rebellious the entire time I'd been teaching him how to use his sword. Well, whatever his problem was, it couldn't interfere with the pilgrimage, and I wasn't going to carry both of them if I could help it.

I almost smiled when, to Jecht's own surprise, he hit the Iguion he was aiming for. Unfortunately, he was so surprised that he'd hit it that he didn't move in to finish the job, and Braska had to quickly fling a spell at it to knock it down before it could latch itself onto Jecht's throat.

"Keep going!" I yelled at him, taking my own swing at the Chimera that had come up on the other side.

This time he didn't get distracted; in fact, he was helpful. When he made a slice right through the thing's middle, he didn't wince at the blood, he just jumped back from the swipe and looked for his next opportunity to attack. I hated to admit it, but once he realized what he was supposed to be doing, he caught on fairly quickly.

And so, despite the increase in fiends, we made good time to the inn, and were there by midday.

Braska immediately walked up to the counter and began speaking in Al Bhed to the attendant. I shifted where I stood by the door. The knowledge that Braska spoke Al Bhed was uncomfortable, even if it was not unexpected. But no matter how uncomfortable it made me, I would not speak disapprovingly of my summoner. It is a guardian's duty to stand by his summoner, come what may.

Jecht let out a shuddery breath in to the warm air of the inn's lobby, "Finally, somewhere warm."

"We won't be staying long."

"Wha? Why not?" Jecht looked at me like I just canceled summer.

I shook my head, "We'll be back. Braska is reserving rooms for the night. But we have to go to the temple first."

"Oh, yeah," His head sunk in disappointment. Honestly, I was as glad to be out of the cold as he was, though the coat had turned out to be warmer than its price had indicated. He hadn't bothered to buy a coat, or even a shirt, for that matter, and refused to wear anything but thin sandals on his feet, even when Braska had said our travel budget could handle buying him some proper shoes.

Braska finished his conversation with the young lady and walked back to us, "Shall we go, then?"

I nodded and Jecht groaned as we made our way back out to the frozen shores of Lake Macalania.

"Hey, wait!" Jecht started to dig the sphere-cam out of his pack. "Let's get a picture!"

"What?"

"Ya know, since there's a sign with the name on it," He pointed to the large sign marking the path to the temple.

Braska smiled, "Alright, I'll get your picture."

Jecht handed the camera to Braska and stood under the sign, while I tried to stand as far away as I could.

"Auron," Braska gestured, "Could you stand closer to him?"

Why on heaven and earth would I want to be in a picture with this fool? I moved closer, but turned my back to the camera so it couldn't see the admittedly immature faces I was making at Jecht.

"Good, that should do it," Braska said, pretending not to notice that I was protesting this whole thing.

Jecht began turning toward me. I immediately stopped making faces. "What's the matter? Afraid I might bite?"

"Jecht . . ." I warned, not wanting to fight with him again.

"Braska! You should take one, too! It'll make a great gift for little Yuna!"

Braska nodded, "I suppose."

"Lord Braska," I sighed in frustration, "We shouldn't be wasting our time like this!" He knew as well as I did that any image of him would never reach his daughter, anymore than it would reach Jecht's nonexistent son.

Jecht rolled his eyes at me, "What's the hurry, man?"

"Let me tell you what the hurry is!"

"Auron!" Braska turned the camera off and dropped it to one side. One look at his face stayed my words, but not my anger. I just had to rearrange what I was going to say a little.

"This journey is to defeat Sin! Sin kills hundreds of people every year! It has attacked every single city, town, and village in Spira, and it kills dozens every time it hits! We are supposed to defeat it, to keep that from happening anymore! _That's_ what the hurry is!"

Jecht at least had the grace to look chagrined, "Look, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? I do know that this is important. I do, but is five minutes going to make a huge difference one way or another?"

"It's not this one five-minute stop, Jecht. It's the fact that you want to take a five-minute stop for every five minutes we're on the road. We cannot afford that much of a delay."

"Okay! I promise I won't do it again, alright?"

I just grunted and started along the icy path. It was hard to tell where the shore ended and the lake began, with the thick sheet of ice covering everything. Somewhere behind me Jecht brushed the snow off his camera and put it back in his bag.

We passed a few minutes in silence. Strangely enough, however, I didn't feel happy about this silence. While it was wonderful to have Jecht's constant chatter silenced, I could tell that the quiet made Braska uncomfortable. And, to be honest, I didn't like it much, either. But I've never been much a conversationalist, and anything was better than Jecht's—

"Hey, Auron."

I almost groaned out loud. He couldn't keep his mouth shut for two—

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm a complete idiot, okay? I mean, I don't know much about Spira, but that doesn't mean you gotta diss me every two seconds, ya know?"

"I wouldn't treat you like an idiot if you didn't act like one."

"What was that?" Jecht stood right in front of me, chest heaving, daring me to do something.

I pushed him off to one side, "Try fighting me later, Jecht, when you can do so properly."

He roared and grabbed me around the neck, bringing me down to the ground. I felt two punches hit me before I realized what was going on. I blocked the third blow and gave him one in return. Braska was shouting at us, but his voice seemed far away, barely audible past the blood rushing in my ears.

Fighting a man is different than fighting a fiend. I couldn't very well grab my sword, or the other, smaller blade I always kept on my person. You can kill fiends; they're already dead. But killing people tends to be frowned upon.

I hadn't been in a fistfight since I was about twelve years old, but that didn't mean I was going to let this idiot beat the crap out of me. I swung for his chin and heard the clip of his teeth crashing together. While he was stunned, I quickly turned us over, so he could no longer sit on my chest and throw punches at leisure. I started to get up, but he swung at my leg, knocking me back to the snow.

"Don't think . . .you can dismiss me . . .so easy!" He gasped, pulling himself up. We both got up. I gave him a swift punch to the solar plexus.

"Don't. Ever. Do that again."

Jecht fell on the ground gasping.

"We cannot afford to fight. Do you understand?"

He looked at me venomously.

"Now . . ." I reached down to give him a hand up, "We are going to the temple."

He refused my hand and pushed himself up. I ignored him and took my place in the lead, trying to find the least slippery patches of ice to walk on. Braska stayed back and talked to Jecht for a while; I could hear Jecht's grumbling and Braska's own calming tones, but I tried hard not to listen to the words. It was almost as difficult as trying not to touch my face, which I could feel was swelling. Both punches stood out clear on my face, stinging and throbbing and trying to make themselves as difficult to ignore as possible. Jecht's grumbling started sounding a little less vehement and Braska picked up his pace to catch up, falling into step with me.

"Auron?"

"I'm sorry, my lord, for that display. It will not happen again." I spoke around the jacket's high collar, hoping he wouldn't notice the slight slur in my voice. My cheek had swollen up so it was difficult to talk without biting it.

"Oh!" Braska looked at what he could see over the collar, "The whole left side of your face is swollen up. Let me see."

He sounded so like a father scolding a child that I didn't know whether to laugh or feel humiliated. He reached up to touch the bruises and I flinched away, really feeling like a child. "Ish-Ish . . ._It's_ fine, my lord. I am not injured."

Braska smiled and whispered conspiratorially, "I already healed Jecht. You gave his jaw quite a clip, you know. But," he continued more seriously as I let him heal my face, "This fighting really must stop. I've already talked to Jecht about it. You have to agree that fighting each other is not the best way to prepare for the fight against Sin."

I nodded stiffly. I was honestly ashamed of my behavior—how was I supposed to protect Braska if I allowed myself to sink to Jecht's level? Whoever said "fight fire with fire" was an idiot; you just get more fire.

"Perhaps this particular party was not formed under the best of circumstances. None of us really knew each other before this journey began, and one of our members knows next to nothing about Spira. We were not friends, but I would like us, all three of us, to be, by journey's end."

"Yes, my lord."

He sighed, half-amused, half-frustrated, "That wasn't an order, Auron."

"My lord?"

"It wasn't an order. I'm not ordering you to be friends with Jecht and I. It's just something I'd like."

I failed to see the difference. Maybe this was one of those diplomatic things Kinoc was talking about. Maybe now I finally needed those social skills he's always said I lacked.

"Ah. Never mind, Auron. Just don't beat each other up while I'm in the Chamber of the Fayth, alright?"

"Understood."

Braska just made another of those amused-frustrated sighs as we rounded the corner and the entrance of the temple came into view. Braska and I both looked at Jecht as we went inside, but there was no glimmer of recognition. Now, having fought in the Warrior Monks, I've had some experience with Sin's toxin, though I've never suffered its influence myself, and I've never seen a case this bad. They may not remember their friends, their families, or even their own names, but they always recognized a temple of the fayth. Even if you did not have one in your hometown, you traveled to one for christenings, for weddings, for holidays, for sendings. Everyone remembers temples.

Jecht didn't. He stood, gaping at the statues, and almost pulled out his sphere-cam before realizing where we were and grinning sheepishly at us. "Guess I shouldn't take pictures in a church, huh?"

Braska just smiled indulgently, not showing surprise if he felt any, and made his way to a prayer mat. He made the gesture of prayer, and then spent some time contemplating a small piece of paper whose contents I could not discern. After a few moments he stood and, making certain we were ready to accompany him, moved to the center stairway.

"Lord Summoner?" Asked the priest at the doorway.

"I am Braska," Braska executed the prayer, "From the Sacred City of Bevelle. These two," he gestured at Jecht and I, "are my guardians."

The priest nodded, "Lord Braska, are you prepared for the trials ahead?"

"We are prepared."

"Very well. May Yevon be with you." The priest returned the gesture of prayer and moved aside to let us walk through the door.

"What the hell?" Jecht rubbed his arms, "It's colder in here than it was outside!"

"I told you," I sighed impatiently, "The cold doesn't come from outside. It emanates from the fayth."

"Yeah, yeah, miss Ice Queen," Jecht muttered. Abruptly, the walkway ended, and I had to throw out my arm to keep Jecht from knocking right into Braska.

"It looks like we have to put the path back together."

"We have to what?"

"The trials," I answered, "Are a mental test. It is a puzzle. Once we figure out the puzzle, a way to the Chamber of the Fayth will materialize."

"Alrighty," Jecht sighed as he walked down the ramp. "Wait. All we have to do is move these over there, right?" He grabbed on of the spheres of the wall and made to move it into a column, only to find another piece of the ice disappearing. "What the—?"

"Like I said, it's a puzzle." I answered, "Oh, and another thing. You must hold only one at a time."

"Wha? Why?"

"Because the spheres radiate magic power. Try to carry two of them and it will, quite literally, fry you. Even magic users cannot hold two of these spheres at once," Braska answered calmly.

Jecht's eyes almost popped out of his head, "Seriously? Dang, do they wanna kill you in here?"

"No," Braska shook his head, "But they do want to know that the person receiving the aeon is both clever and determined. It would be a waste of time to grant an aeon to someone who would not be able to use it properly, you see."

"Ah, I get it, I think . . .but still, it would piss me off to constantly have to jump through hoops for other people, you know? I'd just say, 'You think I ain't good enough? Screw you,' and go off on my own."

I was about to say that that sort of attitude would only get him killed, but, much to my surprise, he spoke the words first.

"These fayth things would probably kill me," He laughed.

"Just keep your mouth shut in the lightning temple," I said quietly.

He heard me and his mouth dropped open. "Auron . . .I think you just told a joke. Braska! Did you hear that? He has a sense of humor after all!"

"Indeed I did. Well done, Auron, we knew you had it in you."

I refused to make eye contact, which just made them laugh more.

Eventually, we made it into the final room, and Braska walked into the Chamber of the Fayth.

"Now we wait," I took a seat along one wall, leaving Jecht the rest of the room to himself. To my annoyance he sat down next to me.

"So . . .what's in the next room?"

"The Fayth," I answered. When he looked confused, I continued, "They are souls of the dead. Sometimes, people decide to give their entire existence to the fight against Sin, even after death. These people volunteer to have their souls taken from their still-living bodies and imprisoned in statues. When a worthy summoner prays to the fayth, the soul awakens from its prison and gains a form. That is an aeon."

"Dang . . ." Jecht whistled, "That's some pretty heavy stuff. You guys must really want to beat this Sin thing if people would do that." Before I could answer that statement, he moved on. "Hey . . .what do the fayth do the rest of the time? I mean, it doesn't look like there's a constant stream of summoners or anything."

"They sing."

"That song?" Jecht looked around as though the music was something he could see, "The Fayth's singing that?"

"Yes. It is called the Hymn of the Fayth; the fayth in every temple sing the same song."

"Really. . ." he trailed off. I could tell he was thinking. About what, I didn't ask. He was surprisingly friendly for someone who had tackled me scarcely two hours ago. I wondered if he was bipolar.

"Auron?"

" . . .Yes?"

"You're looking at me like I'm from outer space."

Hm, a possible, if unlikely, explanation for his behavior. "I'm wondering why someone who wanted to beat me to a pulp two hours ago is now trying to make small talk."

Jecht snorted, "Would you rather we go back to beating on each other?"

"We can't afford any more delays. And, in all honesty, I don't want to distract Braska from his pilgrimage. So no, I do not want to resume physical violence."

"All right, we're on the same page. You just need to loosen up, man. I don't mean half the things I say, you know?"

"Then why say them?"

"Jeez, man, I don't know! I just do, alright? Why don't _you_ say _anything_?"

We sat in an uncomfortable, but not hostile, silence for a little while. I think he'd given up on an answer before I finally spoke. "I guess . . .I'm not very good at saying the right things."

Jecht smiled and clapped a hand on my shoulder, "That makes two of us, buddy."

For the first time since he joined this journey, I didn't feel annoyed with him.


	8. No Detour?

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

**Chapter 8—No Detour?**

"Hey, is he gonna be okay?"

I nodded, "We've gotten him here, he'll rest for a while, he'll be fine."

"Yeah, but dude, he totally fainted! I mean, that can't be good!"

"Silence!" I chopped my hand through the air before his disgruntled face. I sighed. "Come with me."

We walked back into my room, where I motioned him to sit. He angrily threw himself into the armchair beside the window and looked out churlishly.

"Listen, Jecht. The first thing you must know is that it is perfectly normal for a summoner to be weary, exhausted even, after a meeting with the fayth. The second thing you must know," I sat myself on the edge of the bed and looked him straight in the eye, "Is that absolutely no one hears of it. Not unless there is no way to hide it. Understand?"

"But why, if it happens all the time?" I mean, these people know what a summoner does! They know better than me!"

_You have no idea_, I wanted to tell him. Instead I said, "Summoners, and, by extension, guardians, are pillars of strength for Spira. We must never show weakness or the people will lose hope. Do you understand?"

"That's stupid. These people are just hiding their heads in the sand. Why pretend ya don't know what ya do?"

I shook my head, "The truth is . . .hard to accept, Jecht. A summoner's journey . . ."

"Yeah, everyone keeps talking funny about it. Tip-toein' ya know?" His eyes narrowed, "Why?"

"Braska, he . . ."

A sharp knock on the door interrupted us, and a young woman walked in. "Dra Munt summoner—" She cleared her throat, "Excuse me. The Lord Summoner has woke up. Woken up. If you would go to him?" She excused herself and closed the door.

I rose, "We'll continue this conversation later, Jecht. Do not bring it up to anyone else. People do not discuss it anyway, and the thought of anyone over the age of five not knowing . . ."

"Hey, hey!"

I put my hands up in a gesture of peace, "Just trying to keep you out of jail. At least until Braska agrees to forget about bailing you out again."

Jecht let out a short laugh, "The sad thing is I don't know if you're kidding or not."

I remained silent and walked out the door. Let him wonder.

* * *

In the end, we rested in Macalania's Inn for the night, and then camped at the edge of the woods, just beyond the reach of the Thunder Plains. When we made our way to it the next morning, Braska made a point of warning Jecht what we were walking into. 

"Now, Jecht, you must know that the Thunder Plains were not idly named." Jecht had grunted in response. "There is a constant storm raging there. The lightning, and resulting thunder, never stop. Therefore, we must be very careful crossing it."

"Wait. Plains? If it's just plains, that means they're flat. And that means we'll be the tallest things around, right?"

Braska nodded, "That's why we must be careful. There are lightning towers built at intervals throughout the plains, but it is still a treacherous crossing."

"Hell, isn't there, like, a detour or something?"

"No one has wandered into the interior of the continent for centuries. We are not sure what lies further inland. And, in any case, if we did try to travel around the Thunder Plains, we would no doubt go many days out of the way, without any towns or villages, much less inns, and end up lost, seeing as we wouldn't know which landmarks to look for."

"Days? Do the plains really stretch that far?" Jecht squinted in the dim light the overcast skies offered.

"Well, the reason that the storm is everlasting is because of the Fayth. You see, Macalania is not naturally cold. Its elevation is not high, nor is its latitude. And, as you felt for yourself, Bevelle's weather is actually quite temperate."

"Yeah, so?"

"So the fayth causes an unnatural imbalance in the weather. The natural warm air from the south hits the impenetrable cold front here, and the result is this storm."

"Huh," Jecht said, "Didn't know that."

"You don't seem to know many things," I couldn't help but answer.

"Shut up, Auron. You didn't know that either!"

Truthfully, I didn't. I kept my silence.

"Ha! Got ya! For once, I got ya!"

"Don't stand still so long; you'll get struck by the lightning."

He obeyed, but didn't wipe the smug look off his face for a good quarter of an hour.

* * *

Thank Yevon for the Al Bhed; if it weren't for their perverse stubbornness, there would be no reprieve from this storm. It seemed like it had been weeks, instead of only hours, since we had entered the plains. It was difficult to tell the exact time in a place where the sun always hid behind the clouds, but it couldn't have been any later than three or four o'clock. And yet none protested when Braska suggested that we stay at the Travel Agency for the night. 

It wasn't just the walking itself, though it was tiring slogging endlessly through mud and whatever sodden vegetation had somehow found enough purchase and sunlight to grow. And it wasn't just the rain, though it soaked your clothes until you thought them past the point of saturation, and then found yet more fibers to weave its wet little fingers into, or a gap between your boot and your pant leg to drip into, or one lock of hair that it hadn't absolutely drenched. It was the lightning.

Now, I know that some people are frightened of lightning. Personally, it had never frightened me, at least, it did not frighten me by the time I was old enough to bother to remember my thoughts and memories about anything. But that was when I was inside, usually curled up in a blanket, watching through a window, and now I was out in it, my nerves constantly on edge, expecting every bolt to be the one that would bring me down. And so we were trapped between our two impulses; to hurry through as quickly as possible to get out of the rain, and to sit ourselves down by a tower and not worry about the lightning.

In the end, we did a little of both. We scurried between towers like mice running from hiding place to hiding place to escape a housecat. But even under the shelter of the towers, we did not dare rest longer than a few moments before scurrying to the next one, each time looking hopefully to the south for the entrance to Guadosalam.

The fact that we'd made it to the inn was both comforting and disheartening. On the one hand, we had made it halfway through, and were out of the storm until tomorrow morning. On the other hand, we were only halfway through, and had another grueling day ahead of us.

Braska was speaking in Al Bhed to the attendant. Whatever she said made him smile. He turned to us, "We can all get separate rooms tonight. And she says hot baths are ready for us whenever we'd like them."

"Awesome!" Jecht nearly jumped with excitement, or trying to keep himself warm, it was hard to tell. I, too, was glad to have an opportunity to get warm and dry. It wasn't long before we'd deposited our things in our room—she'd asked that any dripping things be kept off the carpets, as they would easily mold in this weather—and made our way to the bathing chamber.

It wasn't like the group bathing areas that were so common in the capital. There were actually several sunken tubs, all separated from each other by walls on two sides, and separated from the central area by a floor-to-ceiling curtain. They completely lined two of the walls, the third wall, furthest from us, was lined with showers, and the wall with the door was covered in small niches and hooks for people's things. On three of those hooks hung soft, fluffy robes, and in three of the cubbies rested what appeared to be pajamas and slippers.

"It looks like they really are ready," Braska pointed at three of the tubs on the western wall, already filled with steaming water.

"Who woulda thunk it?" Jecht whistled, "The highest class inn around is in a hell-hole of a place like this?"

"Who cares why it's here?" I answered impatiently, "I'm getting a bath." I peeled my soaking shirt off my back as I walked, picking one of the filled tubs and closing the curtain behind me before I stripped completely and slid into the water. I hissed as the cold, which had been clinging stubbornly to my skin since we'd left the Macalania inn, finally fled. The change from cold to hot was so sudden it felt as though it burned, but I relaxed back in the water, letting myself grow accustomed to the temperature. Belatedly, I took my hair out of its constant ponytail and let it float loose on the surface of the water a moment before reaching for the soaps and shampoos on the side of the tub and washing off all the unsavory things that had clung to me just as the cold had.

After I was done, I lingered in the warm water. It wasn't often that I had the privilege of real privacy, much less in such a comfortable place, so I took my time, until I felt my eyes drooping under the influence of the warmth. Determined not to die in such an undignified way as drowning in a bathtub, I reluctantly pulled myself out and wrapped a towel around my waist, leaving the small curtained place to find only one robe, one set of pajamas and one set of slippers remaining, with the word "Slowpoke" scrawled in the steam on the mirror. I was so relaxed I couldn't even find it in me to be annoyed.

Instead I just dried off, slipped into the pajamas and the robe, and shuffled my slipper-footed way into my room in the next way. I hardly remember discarding my robe and slippers before I dropped into my bed.

* * *

A/N: I know that this isn't traditional Japanese bathing, but vilg ed. I've been to Japan, I bathed their way, and I find my own way of soaking in a tub to be a lot more comfortable, so Auron gets to bathe my way. ;p Who says Spira's in Japan, anyway? 


	9. Guadosalam

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

**Chapter 9--Guadosalam**

"So how far is it to the next town?"

"We should be getting there soon . . ." Braska said, hardly moving his lips to avoid getting rainwater in his mouth. "Ah! That must be the entrance there!"

I peered ahead, trying to see what he was talking about. The rain had gotten heavier today, and was coming down in thick sheets, making it almost impossible to see. Luckily, the fiends seemed smart enough to stay holed up on a day like this, so we didn't have to worry about fighting in this downpour. I finally spied what appeared to be a hole in the cliff's side. "A tunnel?"

Braska nodded, "The city of Guadosalam is built underground. The tunnel must lead down into the city."

"Huh. Makes sense, I guess. With all this rain you wouldn't want a city up on the surface."

It took all I had not to stare at Jecht in shock. He had actually processed information, and come to a logical conclusion. This man might actually be hiding some sort of brain in that thick head after all. Who knew?

"Now, something I'd like to warn you about, Jecht . . ."

"Yeah?"

"The Guado look a little different from humans, but you mustn't comment on it. They've only recently made themselves a part of the greater Spira. Before, they always stayed hidden in their underground city."

"What do you mean, different than humans? What are they?"

"Don't get any weird ideas," I scoffed, "They're not animals. They just have odd coloring and facial features. They are like . . .trees."

"Trees? Tree people? What?"

"Actually, Auron, that is a rather good description, now that I think of it. Their features are often shades of brown and green, and they do possess a sort of willowy build. But no, Jecht, they don't look like actual trees. You'll see when we get there."

"Just don't say anything rude."

"Wha—?" Jecht sputtered, "Why do you think I would? What kind of cretin do you think I am?"

"You know the word 'cretin'?"

"Auron . . .Jecht . . ."

"I never claimed to be some kind of genius, did I? But that doesn't mean that I'm some kind of moron!"

"Could have fooled me."

"You just stay quiet because you're scared that everyone's going to find out that you really aren't so smart! You don't know so much!"

"Better to stay quiet and have people think you stupid than to open your mouth and prove it."

"What is your problem, man?"

"Auron! Jecht!"

"What?"

We both turned to Braska, who simply smiled and gestured around, "We're out of the rain."

I looked around and saw that we had actually gotten inside the tunnel, with its twisted root walls. " . . .So we are." I began walking down the tunnel, feeling my thundering heart rate drop with each step. I had promised not to fight with Jecht anymore, and here I was, not only participating in a fight, but actually picking one. Granted, we'd all been on our last nerve because of the storm, but that was no excuse. It was unacceptable to have two guardians fighting with each other. And, knowing Braska, he would not be happy until I had apologized to Jecht. I swallowed against the bad taste in my mouth. Hopefully he wouldn't be too smug about it. 

The tunnel would wind downwards for a few yards, then there would be a small step upward, then further down.

"To catch rainwater," Jecht muttered, "Keep the city from flooding." Braska made a sort of affirmative noise.

We went down several more feet, hit one last deep dip, then climbed into the city proper.

"Check it out . . ." Jecht murmured, looking at the winding, twisting paths that made up the several stories of the city and formed patterns on the walls.

"According to the Guado, the entire world is held together by the Great Tree; its roots planted deep in the Farplane, its trunk and limbs holding the earth itself in place. Any trees we see on the surface are supposedly only the very tips of the last small branches."

"Like the tip of an iceberg."

"Exactly Auron," Braska looked like a pleased school teacher, "And you can see why they would have such a theory, when you look at their home."

"They _do_ look like tree branches. Or roots, or something," Jecht ran his hands over the oddly textured walls.

"Yes. The popular theory in the human communities is that Guadosalam is a hollow space in the middle of an ancient tree's root system, but that the tree that was originally connected to them is gone, either because it fell, or was burned, or was chopped down. That would certainly make it a very large tree, but not as large as the Guado believe."

"Which do you think it is?"

I was curious as well, so I let my eyes slide to Braska's face.

He smiled. "There are a lot of things I don't know, and this is one of them. But the Guado's idea sounds much more interesting, don't you think?"

"Yeah . . .it does," Jecht agreed.

It was quiet for one blessed minute. Even though I knew it was absolutely ridiculous—how would such a tree grow, and how would an entire planet be formed around it? It made no sense—it almost seemed as though we felt the magic of something very old around us. Must have been my imagination running away with me.

"So . . .um . . .can we, like, get dry now?"

"I could not echo your sentiments more completely. It looks like the inn's this way," Braska squelched, his robe leaving a trail of water behind him.

We got checked in and changed into dry clothes, and were sharing supper in the inn's small restaurant before Braska brought up the subject.

"It's still fairly early. You two are free to do what you like, but I am going to pay a visit to the Farplane while we're here."

"The Farplane? Isn't that where dead people go?" Jecht got a funny look on his face.

I shook my head, "Guadosalam is the one place in Spira that the living can get close enough to the Farplane to see their dearly departed." I turned to Braska, "I will accompany you if you wish it, Braska."

Braska rolled his eyes good-naturedly, "I do not need a bodyguard, Auron, but you are free to accompany me if there's anyone you wish to see. The offer stands for you as well, Jecht."

I shook my head in response.

Jecht leaned back in his chair, "Nah. There's no dead people that I can't wait a couple of decades to see. Figure I won't be able to escape seein' 'em once I'm dead, so I better appreciate the time I get away from them."

Braska laughed. "Well, then, I'll just go on my own." He left money for the bill (he always carried our travel's wallet) and walked out the door, leaving Jecht and I at the table.

"Hey, Auron?"

" . . .Yes?"

"Are there really dead people there? Isn't there anyone you want to see?"

I shrugged, "I wouldn't recognize my family even if I saw them. I haven't lost any particular friends in my squad. Even if I went, I wouldn't have anyone to call for."

"Yeesh . . .you can even make the fact that _no one's_ died sound sad!"

My eyebrow twitched. "You asked."

He waved my words away as if they were irritating flies. "Yeah, but you have a special gift for making anything sound miserable. You sound like you've been through every tragedy that life could possibly throw at you."

" . . .I haven't."

"Maybe that's why."

"Jecht." I felt a headache coming on. "That didn't make any sense."

"I mean," he leaned forward across the table, "You don't have anything you care enough about to make losing it a tragedy. At least, from the way you talk, it sounds like you don't care about anything that isn't right there, that second, buggin' you. If ya don't have anything, ya can't lose it, but then, you never had it in the first place, so it's like you've lost it the whole time, ya know?"

"Despite the fact that a shoopuf could express itself more eloquently, yes, I believe I do," I got up from the table, "And I think you're full of shit."

To my annoyance, he followed me out of the restaurant and into my room. "See? You're getting all defensive and stuff, 'cause you know it's true."

I rolled my eyes, "No. I think you're wrong."

"Well, then, why don't you ever talk about friends? Or family? Even if you don't have parents or brothers and sisters and shit, shouldn't you be getting married and having kids by now?"

I laughed disbelievingly, "I'm not as old as all that."

He crossed his arms across his chest, "How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

His jaw and his arms dropped together, " . . .No way."

"What?"

"God, I thought you were, like ten years older than that. You're a kid! Now you really have no excuse to act like a bitter old man." I just grunted and shoved past him back out of the door. "Hey, where you goin'?"

"To look around. I haven't been here before."

"Yeah, right. You just can't stand the thought of leaving Braska unguarded. Do you have a crush on him or something?"

"Jecht, if you like having all your teeth, you'll stop talking."

I didn't hear an answer.


	10. Guadosalam II

A/N: I do say a little bit about Lord Jyscal and Lord Seymour here. I try to stay as accurate to the game as possible, but if there is an inaccuracy, please let me know; where I didn't have details, I made things up. Seymour and his mother were exiled to Baaj, and Seymour was not allowed to return to Guadosalam until just after Lord Braska's Calm Wikipedia is my friend. :). I don't know for certain how the timeline fits together with Seymour's own attempt at a pilgrimage, however. 

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

**Chapter 10**

I walked out of the inn and was surprised to see Braska not far from the door, speaking to a blue-haired guado. Of course, why I should be surprised I'm not sure; I'd already seen ample proof of how little it takes to inspire Braska to start a conversation with a stranger.

"Ah, Lord Braska, is it not? Congratulations on becoming a summoner—how unfortunate that I missed your visit to Macalania Temple."

"Thank you very much, Maester Jyscal," Braska offered a very low bow with the prayer gesture. "And how does your son fair?" There shouldn't have been anything wrong with the inquiry, but something in the undertones of Braska's voice immediately made the air go taut. It was something I'd never heard in his voice, something I hadn't even known he was capable of—it was cold, disapproving, cutting.

"I haven't heard from him since the storms set in," Jyscal answered calmly, but with a stiffness of posture that said he heard and understood Braska's tone. "It's difficult to sail with the weather being what it currently is in that part of the world."

"Ah, I see," Braska nodded, never lifting his eyes from the Maester's. I stood in shock; everyone knew that Braska flouted tradition, but to speak in such a manner to a _Maester_? There was a limit to how brazen even Braska could be. I was desperately thinking of a way to interfere and get Braska out of there, but how to do so without looking like I was disrespecting either my summoner or one of the four Maesters of Yevon was proving to be a most difficult plan to concoct. Fortunately, it seemed to resolve itself.

"Well, I'm certain that your schedule is very full, so I won't hold you up any longer," Braska preformed the prayer again, with another deep bow. Jyscal reciprocated, but with a shorter bow.

"And you as well, Lord Summoner. You are here, I am sure, to visit someone," he vaguely gestured toward the entrance to the Farplane with one long-fingered hand.

And with that, they parted ways, the Maester and his two guards heading to the Manor that housed the guado royal family, though currently only Lord Jyscal resided there, and infrequently at that. Braska stood unmoving until Maester Jyscal was out of sight before turning his head about in a sort of listless manner. He eyes roamed the underground cavern for a few moments before they wandered across me and came to a stop.

Braska's eyes widened in surprise, but he smiled. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to wonder whether or not I would have to step in to save you from those guards."

Braska sighed and braced his hands on his back. "Do you know what that man, a man declared the savior of his people and one of the four most holy men in the world, did to his own wife and child?" When I continued to stand dumbly, he continued. "He had them exiled from here. His wife was a human woman. Apparently he thought that by marrying her, he could gain more status for the guado throughout Spira. Whether it worked in that capacity is arguable, but he certainly didn't treat her well. She was first confined to Guadosalam—forbidden to travel with him, or even to go as far as the Moonflow. Why he kept her so isolated if the intent of the marriage was to connect him to the human community, I have no idea. When the two of them had a son together, the situation only got worse."

"A guado and a human…!?" I found I could not complete the thought out loud but…a bevellian and an al bhed was odd enough; at least both parties involved were human. And while the guado had indeed been welcomed into Yevon about twenty years ago, it was one thing to break bread with a guado and another thing entirely to…I looked sideways at a guado woman walking past and tried mightily not to make any faces that would betray my thoughts. Yevon, what was next—ronso?

"Their child was neither human nor guado, but a mix of the two. Despite his noble birth, he was never really adopted by either the humans or the guado. Lord Jyscal even tried to send the lad on a pilgrimage! When the boy failed to complete the pilgrimage, Lord Jyscal had both young Seymour and his mother exiled to the isle of Baaj. Lady Kaia has been dead for some time now, and Master Seymour has been living alone since her death. He must be in his late teens by now, and his own father had not seen him since he was a little boy. I cannot understand how such a man can be considered 'holy.'"

We stood in silence. I didn't know what to think. Jyscal was a maester. Maesters were supposed to be completely infallible. How could Braska's story be true? But Braska would not lie—if anything, he was honest to the point of being a danger to himself and to others. No, Braska truly believed what he was telling me, of that I was certain. But there had to be more to the story—something he didn't know. After all, it was Lord Jyscal's personal life. There had to be reasons that he did what he did. I cleared my throat, "Weren't you going to visit the Farplane?"

Braska shook his head as though awakening from a long nap. "Yes. I am." He seemed to reach distractedly for his pocket, but did not pull out whatever was there. He walked on toward the Farplane.

I had a fleet inclination to follow, but dismissed it when I realized that he probably wanted to be left alone, to speak with whomever it was he wanted to see. Instead, I took a look around the town, shocked that it was truly the only guado settlement in Spira. Granted, it was larger than most human villages, but it was nowhere near the size of Bevelle, and there weren't any other guado towns. How on earth could there be so few of them?

But I was torn from my half-interested wonderings of population growth by an all-too-familiar voice loudly singing something that must have been funny to someone, because the laughter of many voices drowned out most of the words. The noise emanated from a set of doors, written on only with letters from the guado alphabet, so I honestly could not tell you the name of the place, only that it was obviously some kind of bar. Naturally, Jecht was well on his way to becoming drunk (and on Braska's coin, again). When he saw me come through the door, he smiled widely.

"Hey there, Auron! Hey guys, This ish Auron!" He gestured to me with a mug still in his hand, "He'sh alwaysh being waaaaaaaaay too serious, right Auron?" He didn't wait for me to answer before he continued, "So don'—don'—don' listen to any…anything he shaysh." He hiccupped a few times and then belched loudly, to the amusement of several people around him.

"Jecht," I sighed tiredly once I'd woven my way to the back where he sat, "It's time to go."

"Whash the hurry? We don' leave until tomorrow."

"Exactly. And I'm not hauling your drunk pathetic carcass around, nor am I waiting for your hangover to pass."

"Loosen up, Auron, geesh! Here, you should try some of this!" He shoved the mug close to my face, "The guado make their own rum! Aren't they great? Great people, guado." He got distracted for a moment, then realized the mug was still outstretched toward me and immediately pulled it back to himself, pouting like a child cuddling his favorite toy, "You have to get your own."

I rolled my eyes, "I don't need any of the guado's rum; you've had enough for both of us."

"Come on man, it's still early man! Things are just starting!" Somebody else on the other side of the bar had started singing something, too, and the crowd around him burst into laughter.

"We're going." I grabbed Jecht's arm and pulled him off his chair. He hardly protested, except for finishing his mug before he would set it down and leave the table. I took the money from Jecht to pay his bill and started walking him back to the hotel. I guess of all the kinds of drunk you could be, Jecht wasn't a bad one. He didn't try to start fights with people, or start blubbering about anything and everything; he was a happy drunk. A very, very happy drunk. The most difficult thing was trying to keep him from getting distracted and wandering away on the way back to the inn, and to keep him quiet once I got him into the building. People were trying to sleep, after all. Even when I got him to the inn, I couldn't seem to make him just lie down and go to sleep—he kept wanting to get up and pace around and try to dance and sing. When I finally did get him to lie down though, he was asleep in minutes. It was only then that I had time to notice that Lord Braska still hadn't returned.

I walked as quietly as I could back out of the inn—I had the oddest inclination to take off my boots, like a child sneaking out after curfew—and passed the glaring innkeeper. _**I'm** not going to get drunk,_ I tried to think at him, but judging by the glower on his face, he didn't get the message. Thankfully, guests got a front-door key along with the room key, so he couldn't very well lock me out.

The city was surprisingly light, even at this late an hour. I looked around and noticed that most of the light came from the winding branch-roots embedded in the floor and walls, and, when I looked up to see, the ceiling as well. It hadn't occurred to me to look during daylight hours, but of course no daylight could make it down here. I got that feeling that something very old and powerful was watching me. I didn't like it.

Since I had nothing else to go on, I started to make my way to the Farplane. A guado stood near the entrance, apparently none too pleased with being assigned the night shift, if his drooping eyes were any proof. To his credit, he did try to look as though he were awake when he nodded to me in greeting.

"Is anyone still in there?" I asked.

"If you mean the Lord Summoner, then yes. He's been in there for hours. Are you his guardian?"

"One of them, yes."

"Then it might be best for you to go in there," He looked toward the Farplane entrance a little nervously, "I wouldn't want to intrude upon anyone's grief, but I would say he could probably use a friend's company after having been there that long."

I almost wanted to tell him that Braska and I were hardly friends, but I just didn't have the heart to. It sounded cruel even in my own mind, especially when I considered the fact that Braska probably _could_ use a friend right now, more than he could use a guardian. I suddenly felt ashamed, though I could not say exactly where my behavior had been wrong. I walked past the guard and into the tunnel.

It didn't lead straight into the Farplane, but down a winding path and a staircase. The staircase ended in a nebulous cloud that I decided must be the actual entrance. I looked up at the shifting mist in trepidation—I'd never been to the Farplane, and had never had any intention of going. Just as I'd told Jecht, I never remembered meeting any family I'd had. I assumed that if they could have been located, I would have been with them, instead of in the temple. So it wasn't as though I would summon any of them—I wouldn't know who they were even if they did, by some miracle, materialize. And, because I was from Bevelle, very few of our monks were ever put into any sort of deadly situations. The worst we ever dealt with were some fiends that tried to sneak in through either the wood to the south, or the plains to the north. Sin mostly stayed on the coast, and Bevelle was a good day's travel inland. And there was Evrae besides, though I doubt even she could survive if Sin did indeed decide to attack Bevelle.

But I'm getting off-topic.

I had just made up my mind to go up that staircase when Braska came walking down it. He blinked at me. "Have you been waiting here long?"

"I only just got here, milord. You've been gone for hours."

"You don't have to call me 'milord,' Auron. Really, it's somewhat embarrassing."

"I didn't mean to embarrass you mi—Lord Braska."

He sighed good-naturedly and tried to look put-upon. He failed horribly. "Just plain Braska is fine. It's strange enough when strangers call me 'Lord Summoner.' I always expect them to be talking to someone else."

"Very well . . .Braska." Like I said, you don't deny a summoner what he wants without a good reason, no matter how eccentric the requests might be. And Braska seemed to have a gift for eccentricism. "But are you sure you are alright? You've been gone since just after dinner."

"What time is it now?" he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"I'd say after midnight."

"How time flies . . ." was all he answered, but the two of us fell into step, walking back out. The guado guard nodded to us again as we left. Apparently, no one else was expected to come or go, because the guard turned and made some sort of gesture at the gaping hole, causing the tunnel to cloud over with the same shimmering mist that the entrance to the Farplane had, before picking up his things and walking toward some of the houses at the other side of town.

We quietly let ourselves back into the inn—apparently, the innkeeper had gone back to bed, because he wasn't scowling behind the desk when we returned—and walked down the hallway to our separate rooms.

"What time do you wish to leave in the morning?" I bit my tongue before I said 'milord,' but it still felt strange to call him by his first name alone.

"Early enough to reach the other side of the Moonflow by nightfall. I have no desire to sleep outdoors more than we have to."

I nodded. "Understood. Oh, and . . ." I gestured toward Jecht's room, "_He_ managed to go get himself drunk again, so he'll probably be completely useless tomorrow morning." Braska sighed, but said nothing, only taking the room key out of his pocket and beginning to fit it into the door. "Perhaps . . .perhaps if he understood how important the pilgrimage was . . ." He immediately went still.

"I know it is unfair of me not to tell him what it is I intend to do," he said, in a voice that seemed somehow both sad and happy, "But don't you think it would be better if he remembers on his own?"

"Do you believe he will remember?"

"Do you?"

We stood still in the hallway for a moment. If I said yes, that gave Braska an excuse not to tell him. If I said no, that would give Jecht's ridiculous story about being from Zanarkand credence. I tried to find some middle ground. "I don't think we should wait for it. He may have killed that particular batch of brain cells by now." Braska still stood quiet, his hand still on the key, resting in the lock, but not turning. "Of course, it is your choice; you are our summoner. I will stand by whatever decision you make."

He nodded, and the spell seemed broken. I moved over to my door, and Braska finished unlocking his. Just before he shut his door he said, "After Djose. If his story is false, seeing the coast should remind him of where he used to live. Then the rest will come back."

"As your wish, my lord."

He rolled his eyes in good-natured annoyance.

"As you wish, _Braska._"

"That's better," He nodded, then shut his door. I went inside my room and shut the door as well, thanking Yevon that the walls were thick enough to shut out Jecht's snoring this time.


	11. The Moonflow

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

A/N: Hope everyone had a happy Christmas and New Year!

**The Moonflow**

The next morning was as difficult as I thought it would be—Jecht whined and hemmed and hawed and wouldn't get up until even Braska lost his temper and dumped a weak water spell over his head. Jecht looked at him disbelievingly, holding a hunk of wet hair in each hand, but Braska just smiled brightly and slowly explained (using small words) that it was time to get up.

There was a minimum of fuss after that, but the pace didn't pick up much. Jecht kept running back to his room for forgotten things. After the third trip back to the room, I just snapped, "That's it. If there's anything you've left in there, you'll just have to do without it. We're leaving."

We hadn't even made it to the edge of town before Jecht remembered that he'd left something in the bar the night before.

"No."

"I wasn't talkin' to you," Jecht retorted. I half expected him to stick his tongue out at me. I was surprised at how much I felt like doing that myself. What _is_ it about this idiot that makes me behave so childishly?

"Alright, Jecht. But we're not stopping to get anything to drink. We're just getting your—what did you say it was?"

Jecht mumbled something incoherent as he walked away back toward the bar.

"Jecht? We are really going back for something you left there, aren't we?"

"Listen, I like to drink, but I'm not stupid enough to try to get one in now."

"He didn't answer the question," I mumbled to Braska. Braska just looked annoyed. By this point, though, Jecht was far ahead of us and had already ducked into the bar.

"Why couldn't he have walked that fast earlier?" I muttered, not really expecting an answer. Braska just shrugged. We came in just as Jecht was closing up his bag up at the counter.

"Did you find it?" Braska asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," he said, putting the pack on his back. "Good to go!"

"Out of curiosity, what did you leave?"

"Oh! My, uh . . .sphere-cam."

"No, that's what you ran back into your room for the second time."

"No, uh, that's not what I meant. Sorry, I'm still tired. Brain's not workin' right." I barely kept myself from asking what time of day it _did_ work right. A shot that easy doesn't do any credit to the one that takes it. "What I meant to say was . . .my, uh, good luck charm."

"Your good luck charm."

"Yeah. I, uh, didn't want to tell you guys about it. Kinda embarrassing, you know? I mean, who really believes in that junk? But I always carry it around with me."

"What is it?"

"Well, I can't very well show you! The good luck'll come off!"

Braska and I exchanged looks, but didn't press him on the subject. Neither of us really believed that he carried around a good luck charm, but it really wasn't our business to pry. Besides, he couldn't have gotten a hold of something all _that_ bad.

We'd gotten all of fifty feet outside of Guadosalam before Jecht had to run to the side of the road and empty his stomach into a bush. I walked away a bit. The sound of someone else being sick always made my stomach rebel, and I had no intention of losing my breakfast.

It seemed to help quite a bit, though. He stopped squinting and rubbing his head, and his complaints gave way to the same idle chatter he "entertained" us with. Still, he seemed to be doing alright, keeping Braska out of the fray so he could concentrate on his spells, taking care of the smaller, quicker fiends while I hacked away at big, slow ones. After all the practice he had gotten on the Thunder Plains Braska and I didn't have to constantly watch him, ready to bail him out at a moment's notice. _No wonder he thinks he's a star blitzball player,_ I thought grudgingly, _He catches on to this stuff fast. _Then I mentally snorted. _Too bad he's hopelessly stupid otherwise._

The chimera I was fighting went down in a cloud of pyreflies, and I turned to see Jecht finishing off an agama that had come in from the back. His sword wobbled just a little before he put it back in its sheath, and I took a quick step forward, but he seemed uninjured. Still, it took only one scratch for their poisoned claws to do their work, and some of the rare varieties of lizards left even nastier reminders.

"You alright, Jecht?"

"Yeah…yeah 'm fine." He wobbled a bit on his feet.

"Are you sure? We've fought a large number of fiends on this road. If you are tired, simply say so. I do not think it is much farther to the Moonflow—we should have plenty of time to take a short break." Braska looked at me for conformation. I nodded; Guadosalam was only seven cholls(1) from the Moonflow, and we had covered more than half of that already.

"I c'n keep up," Jecht muttered, and took a long drink from his canteen. The sun _was_ becoming quite hot. We'd have to be careful not to get too dehydrated.

The further we traveled, however, the wobblier Jecht seemed to get. At first I thought I'd been wrong in thinking him uninjured before—he must be experiencing some of the effects of the agama's poison—until he snuck off to refill his canteen, instead of filling it where Braska and I were refilling ours. Any sort of concern I'd had for him melted like butter in a hot skillet. _That __idiot_. When he came weaving back from around the curve in the stream, my suspicions were confirmed. 

"You're _drunk_."

"Huh? What? No 'm not, man."

"Give me that canteen."

"You're not the boss of me!"

"You can't protect the summoner drunk!"

"I can do anything I want!"

He stormed—or came as close to storming as his teetering gait would allow—past us, straight to the banks of the Moonflow. What happened next happened so fast we didn't even have time to register it before thick red blood was pouring down and dozens of screams rent the air; human women and children shrill and piercing, hypello odd and gurgling, and, most importantly, the shoopuf, angry and loud.

"Jecht, what in Yevon's name—!?"

"Thought it was a fiend…" Jecht stared, wide-eyed, at the wound he had caused. Fiends didn't bleed because they weren't really animals; they were the undead. Shoopufs, however, bled. Quite a bit, it turns out. They also run very, very fast when they are frightened, regardless of the large number of hypelo grabbing its lead reins to slow it down.

"Someone's going to get trampled at this rate." _Probably several someones._ "Braska, you're a summoner; people will listen to you. Try to get people on this side headed toward the Guadosalam exit. I'll go over to the other side. Jecht, just….don't move." _Especially if that shoopuf comes this way._

For once he didn't argue with me. He just looked, dumbfounded, at the havoc he'd caused. For once, Braska didn't tell me I was being too harsh; he just left Jecht standing where he was and started to herd people away from the rampaging shoopuf. I started making my way to where the beast still waded through the crowd.

A crowd of panicked people is not fun. I don't like crowds under the best of circumstances, but I don't think anyone likes a panicked crowd.

"Everyone! Please go toward the Djose exit!" I used my best 'authoritative warrior-priest' voice.

And was completely ignored.

Well, one person might have looked at me for a moment, since I shouted right in his ear, but other than that, I was completely ignored.

So I just grabbed the people closest to me. "That way," I pointed them toward the Djose exit. "Everyone's going to be meeting over there."

"But my wi—"

"My kids—"

"Will meet you over there. We can't get anyone out unless people start moving. Go!"

Obviously, controlling a crowd, especially by yourself and sans uniform, is not easy. A lot of people just stood over on the side for a moment and, finding that I wasn't getting their loved ones to them fast enough, jumped right back in. Another reason to not bother with people—they were clearly, with very few exceptions, idiots.

Luckily, no one did end up trampled. There was one blood-spattered kid who gave me a scare, but it turned out that he had just brushed against the shoopuf's leg and gotten covered in _its_ blood. And once we got the crowds away, it was a lot easier for the hypello to calm the animal down.

Jecht had actually followed orders and not moved. He still stood there, dumb (in more ways than one), as several hypello yelled at him. If the situation had been less serious, I would have laughed; an angry hypello is an amusing sight. As it was, Braska stepped in fairly quickly and started apologizing. Though they were still angry, the sight of a summoner seemed to mollify them a bit. Still, a lot of damage had been done. The shoopuf's leg, for one, would need seeing to. In its stomping about, it had also managed to damage one of the cranes, and the welcome sign. This would all take money and time to fix.

Apparently, it would take 13,781 gil. Oh, what a coincidence, that's exactly how much we have! Why, yes, we'd be happy to give you every red cent we own!

Right.

So that's how we ended up here, on the banks of the Moonflow, completely penniless. We were waiting until things calmed down a bit to sell some of our unnecessary things (the first thing to go being the three bottles of rum we'd found in Jecht's bag—apparently he'd paid for them the night before and hadn't remembered to grab them when I'd drug him out of the bar) while the hypello weren't watching. Fiend hunting was out of the question for the moment, with Jecht still coming off the alcohol and all the panicky people and, more importantly, panicky shoopufs, still about. Wouldn't do to draw a sword in front of either of them.

The three of us had been sitting off to one side, neither of us really bothering to chastise Jecht anymore. There just didn't seem to be anything more you could say about this level of stupidity. After a while he'd crept off the river's side, I think trying to catch some relief from the stifling atmosphere, to say nothing of the current temperature.

Out of boredom, and no small amount of frustration, I picked up Jecht's sphere cam and aimed it at where he sat, hunched over and squinting against the sun's glare.

"What are you shooting me for?" Jecht grumped. 

"So you don't do anything stupid again," I snapped back. "I can't believe you attacked that shoopuf. Lord Braska had to pay the handler for damages from his own travel money."

"I _said_ I was sorry. It's never gonna happen again! I promise!"

I snorted. Of course it wouldn't happen again. If I were the shoopuf handler, I wouldn't even let Jecht sit this close to the animals. "Ah, a promise? Which you'll forget come tomorrow!"

"Auron, please, he did apologize. He knows he was wrong." Braska gave Jecht a look that clearly said that he had better know he had been wrong. It looked so much like a parent chiding a child I almost laughed, thinking of how Yuna must have quailed under such a look. However, I doubt a seven-year-old would be in trouble for drunkenness and assault of a beast of burden. That brought the scowl right back.

"That's it." Jecht stood up—he hardly wobbled at all—and struck a determined pose, "Only thing I drink from now on is shoopuf milk!"

Braska raised his eyebrows, "You sure?"

"We're on a journey to fight Sin and save Spira, right? If I keep screwin' up . . .and . . .making a fool of myself . . ." _Something he must be very familiar with,_ I couldn't help but think. "My wife and kid are never gonna forgive me."

He looked so dejected, I almost believed he was sincere. No, I really did believe he was sincere, against my better judgment. Neither Braska nor I had the heart to tell him that his wife and child, had they ever really existed, must be dead.

So instead, I just nodded curtly, "That's on the record," and gestured to the sphere as I turned it off. Jecht looked annoyed.

"Don't trust me to keep my promise on my own?"

"No."

Suddenly, I was soaked. I looked around, dumbfounded, to see Braska tiredly casting aside his staff. "Keep that up, and I'll cast a thunder spell, too."

Jecht and I both stood in silent shock. I couldn't even find it in me to try and wipe water from my eyes or squeeze it from my hair. Braska took one look at us and burst out laughing.

"If you could see…the looks…on your faces…You can't say I didn't warn you to stop fighting, you know."

I looked over at Jecht, and saw the same look of disbelief on his face that must have been on mine. I only hoped I didn't look so much like a wet dog. Jecht's lips started to twitch up. He sputtered, and finally burst into laughter himself. For a second, I just looked between the two of them, trying to figure out what was so funny. But soon I found myself smiling, too. And that grew to a chuckle. And then to laughter. I don't think any of us were really laughing about Jecht and I looking like drowned rats; I don't think any of us even knew why we were laughing at all.

But laughing had never felt so good.

(1) The distance that a chocobo can run in a minute at top speed—about ½ mile.


	12. Simpler Isn't Better

A/N: Hey guys! I do have valid excuses for my long absense, but I just explained to my livjournal peoples why I was gone, so check out the livejournal if you really want the explanation.

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

**Chapter 12**

Against what must have been the hypello's better judgment, we were allowed to cross the Moonflow the next day, once we had gathered enough funds to do so. I could see the hypello dithering—on the one hand, Jecht had tried to kill one of their shoopufs, but on the other he was a guardian, and one did not dare to impede a summoner's pilgrimage. They did, however, ask that all of our weapons be left with the driver, out of Jecht's reach.

The ride passed more or less uneventfully. There were some underwater ruins that were in remarkably good shape, but when Jecht heard the story behind them, that Sin had punished the people of the city for their hubris by sending it to the bottom, he just scoffed.

"Wherever you go, there's always Sin, or gods, or spirits, or _something_ punishing people. Don't these guys have anything better to do with their time? Seriously, I'm halfway between sockin' 'em in the jaw and feelin' sorry for 'em. They must not do much if they spend all their time punishing us for accomplishing stuff."

Braska just laughed it off, but, oddly enough, those words actually made me start thinking. We all knew, since we were in the cradle, that Sin was there to punish us for our misdeeds. But where was our misdeed, really? Somehow 'machina' didn't seem to be enough of an answer. If it was the way we were using machina, as weapons, then wouldn't we be punished for using non-mechanized weapons as well? Or was it, as Jecht said, because our accomplishments had challenged the gods? Maybe they were reminding us that we did, in fact, need them. I immediately pulled up short. These thoughts were blasphemous! Here I was, accusing Yevon of inflicting us with Sin just to get some attention, as if He were a spoiled child! How could Jecht even think such things, much less speak them aloud? If he had been under the influence of Sin's toxin, it should have worn off long ago. And, as far as I knew, people didn't invent new memories under its influence; they simply forgot the old ones. But, if he wasn't affected by Sin's toxin…

No. Impossible.

We managed to get to the other side of the Moonflow well before dark, and debated for a while whether we wanted to just get some rooms at one of the inns that littered the river's banks or press on to Djose. A lack of funds (our wallet was still pitifully light) decided the matter for us—we would go to Djose.

"But we should not reach the temple too late. Perhaps we can attempt the trials tonight?"

"Won't you be too tired, Braska?"

"The fiends will have to try a bit harder for that."

"Well, if you won't be tired, I will! All you do is stand back there and cast spells! That makes you lazy!"

"Jecht!"

"What? It's true! We're the ones running around swinging swords! He just stands there in the back and tries to look all mystical!"

SPLASH! "Mystical enough for you?"

"Hey man, that was totally unfair."

"You did ask for it."

"Shut up, Auron."

Actually, by the time we left the Moonflow and hit the Djose Highroad, it was so dark that we rather depended on Braska's magic to get us through. Jecht and I could barely see our hands in front of our faces and, while we could sometimes glimpse fiends' eyes glinting at us in the dark, the rest of their bodies were completely hidden to us, meaning that we hit about as often as we missed. More so, in my case, since my sword was slower to swing. Not for the first time I cursed my stubbornness in learning to wield so large a weapon.

I had just lifted said weapon to destroy a fiend whose beady eyes I could see staring at me, but just as my blade fell, a fire spell caught the thing's body and it dissolved into a cloud of pyreflies. Luckily, the light of the fire also caught the lettering of a sign.

I walked in the direction the arrow had pointed and felt the ground going uphill beneath my feet. We all tried to walk carefully—the rough ocean cliffs were hard enough to navigate in the dark, so going uphill was hardly the relief we were hoping for. As soon as we crested the hill, however, the temple came into view.

It shouldn't have come into view on such a dark night. At most, we should have been able to see one or two lanterns hanging outside the door to guide travelers. But this is the thunder temple.

Lightning was arcing all around the building, never deigning to strike the ground around it, or any of the nearby buildings or stunted, twisted trees. In fact, after a while I noticed that most of the electricity wasn't even coming from the sky. It was coming from the temple itself, and just moved in quick, waving half-circles from one part to another.

"How does it do that?"

"The fayth."

"No, I mean the electricity. I mean, I could be wrong, but it doesn't look like there's much metal in that building, and none of the inns we've gone to have had electricity, so this place isn't wired, either, right? So how does all that electricity keep going crazy over a piece of solid rock like that?"

"You know how electricity works?"

"Well, I'm no electrician, but…you guys don't?"

"The study of machina and their workings is forbidden."

"Well then what do you call all those things in Bevelle?"

"Those are powered by the spheres."

"So, because they're powered by spheres, they aren't machina? Dude, that's just stupid. It's like saying that just because something is connected to a battery and not a power cord, it's not a machina."

"Yes, well, I've discovered that most people don't like it when you ask those kinds of questions. They also tend to take it personally if you call their belief system stupid."

"Oops, sorry."

"Don't worry. I've discovered it the hard way myself. Though I think a thundercloud may just be forming over Auron's head at the moment."

"Are you sure that's not smoke? Maybe his brain's overheating."

"At least that would prove that I'm using it."

The inclining rock changed to smooth, flat tile under our feet, so we knew we had made it onto the actual temple grounds. At least we knew that rest was coming up ahead, if Braska had given up his mad scheme of attempting the trials tonight. The temples were required, by vows of charity taken by the priests and nuns, to take in any traveler. And while they could attempt to guilt you into donating to the temple, they could not actually make you pay—good news for our empty wallets.

The sleepy priest who opened the door seemed very surprised to see a summoner wandering it at this time of night—apparently it had taken us longer to climb over the cliffs than we'd thought. Braska flawlessly made up a story about having our money stolen. The priest started an outraged tirade in our defense about those bandits whom he had known to be awful but not so godless as to attack a _summoner party_ and was nothing sacred anymore?

Luckily, Jecht managed to cover his snicker with a coughing fit. Personally, I was caught between being amused and appalled. Braska was flat-out lying, and far too well for a supposed holy man! In any case, there would of course be room here, though they were but humble quarters, there would always be room at the temple for those who needed it. And of course, the Lord Braska was simply to let any of the priests know when he was ready to face the trials.

As soon as the door shut, I turned to Braska, "Lord Braska, if I may ask why—"

"Did I lie about our circumstances? Because it is easier to explain brigands than it is to explain wounded shoopufs for one. And because he would be less inclined to ask for money which we certainly don't have if we were victims of a robbery rather than the recipients of all the small gifts that people try to give summoner parties." He smiled. "Generally I don't like to lie, it's difficult to remember what I said to people if I don't tell them the truth, but sometimes a simple lie is easier than a complicated truth."

"Forgive me, my lord, but simpler is not always better."

"No. No it isn't." His eyes seemed to look at something far off and he smiled a bit wryly. "Does it make you so uncomfortable, Auron?"

I thought for a moment, and was surprised that it didn't really. "No."

"Well, then, let's call it a night. We'll be facing the trials in the morning."

They were just cots we were sleeping in, but still a sight better than the cold, hard ground we could have easily ended up on tonight, so I just counted our blessings. I think I may have been asleep even before the light sphere went out.


	13. And The Thunder Rolled

A/N: Okay, it's two weeks late, but here it is! Sorry for the delay...I'm on spring break for the next two weeks, so hopefully I'll be able to catch up on this and every other project I've fallen behind on. Note: This chapter is un-beta'd (because I felt so bad making you guys wait so long). It's here, warts and all!

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

**And the Thunder Rolled**

Without any windows to let in the sun, morning came incredibly (embarrassingly) late for us. By the time we actually got up and stumbled out of the room we'd stayed in, white spears of light had thrust themselves through ever door, dazzling our den-dark eyes.

"Oh! Milord Summoner!" The young priest from last night came forward. He bowed. "I hope you slept well."

"Very well, thank you." Braska smiled and gestured at the bright light fighting its way inside, "Perhaps a little _too_ well."

The boy smiled back. "If you are in need of food, the kitchen is right through there," he pointed at a door toward our left. "Also, I apologize, but all of the priests are very busy today, so you probably won't see anyone standing at the door of the Trials. Just alert any priest you see in the temple or on its grounds and they will let you in."

"Why're you all so busy?"

"Planting time," he answered, staring probably more than he realized at Jecht's tattoo. "If you need nothing further, Lord Summoner, Guardians, I must be on my way back to the fields." We assured him that we needed nothing else and parted ways with him.

"Farming, huh? Why didn't the other temples do that?"

"It is too cold in Macalania, and Bevelle's temple is in the center of a large city. Besides, the further a temple is from the capital, the less monetary support they receive from it. These people must farm to feed themselves, though I do not envy them, trying to get anything to grow on these rocks."

Jecht made an annoyed sound.

"They are not completely without support—with their ties to Mi'hen, the Crusaders often donate to this temple." I saw Jecht's puzzled face and intercepted the question before it passed his lips. "Mi'hen founded the Crusaders about 800 years ago. They fight Sin in accordance with the teaching but they are not actually a part of the temples like the Warrior Monks are."

We pushed open the door to the kitchen and found a priest with a round, cheerful face scuttling about inside. "Ah! Lord Summoner! Honored Guardians!" He wiped his floury hands on his dark apron, leaving smeared white handprints. "Do you need breakfast…or lunch?" He laughed as he got three plates out of one of the tall cupboards and set them down on the giant table that dominated the other side of the room. He went back to the cupboard, pulling out three heavy clay cups, "Is ale all right?"

"Can I just have water?"

My eyes shot to Jecht. His words had sounded completely natural, but I could see the tense determination in his stance.

"Sure," the priest said without turning around.

"Just water for me, too." Braska said with a smile.

Now, wait just a minute. Just because Jecht is actually keeping his word about not drinking doesn't mean that I have to without! Neither of them was looking at me, but I know they were waiting expectantly. I hate being part of a team. "Me too."

"All right. I suppose water would be better, anyhow. You wouldn't want to dry up during the Trials."

And so the three of us sat at that gigantic table, eating vegetable soup and thick slices of brown bread, listening to the priest hum to himself as he prepared lunch for the priests working outside, and throwing back glass after glass of water.

When we finished, I offered to wash the dishes that we had dirtied, but the priest shooed me off. "You job is to be rested and well for the challenge ahead of you. Let me handle the dishes." He smiled as cheerfully as ever, but it suddenly seemed incredibly false. It was all I could do to maintain my expression as I thanked him and walked out of the kitchen. He'd really said _It's his job to die, and it's your job to help him do it._ It's no wonder he chose to do dishes.

Upon entering the prayer room, I saw Jecht and Braska had already moved to one side of the room and Braska was bowing before one of the statues before kneeling on the prayer mat. Normally, I would join for at least the respectful gesture of prayer, if not for the several minutes that Braska spent at it, but today I couldn't bring myself to bow. Instead, I stood near Braska, as though guarding him, though there was nothing to guard him against inside the temple. Nothing I could fight off with a sword. Braska knelt, contemplating the now-familiar but still enigmatic piece of paper. I was beginning to think that it was actually blank and he brought it just to make people curious. That seemed like something he would do. Braska had a way of making you mind go to places it had never been, places you hadn't wanted to go.

_Do you know what these statues are, Auron?_

_High Summoners._

_No, the small ones. The prayer statues._

_Others that gave their lives fighting Sin._

_If they made a statue of everyone who died fighting Sin, there would be no room for them all in the temple. No, the figures, if not these particular statues, are much older. They are gods from a "heathen" faith that existed long before Yevon was founded. They put them in here to make the place look more impressive, I think._

_And knowing this you still pray before them?_

_Why not? I don't pray _to_ them, after all. They are stones. They mean only what you let them mean. And I happen to think that they are a fairly insignificant, if somewhat tacky, part of the décor._

I just stood, guarding him from I knew not what, statues or false smiles or maybe even that paper he had in his hands. In my current mood, Jecht's antics were more annoying than usual, though, to be fair, he wasn't doing much. He kept looking around, switching his weight from one foot to the other, rocking from his toes to his heels and back, walking a few steps this way and a few steps that way until the restless motion made me snap.

"Stop fidgeting." I snapped, "How is anyone supposed to pray with you leaping about like that? Don't you have something or someone to be praying for?"

"Nah, never put much stock in temples or churches or anything. Figure what'll happen will happen, whether I pray or not."

I whipped around, but, seeing no shocked faces, felt a wave of relief. "Don't say things like that in a house of worship you dolt! If you don't want to pray, don't. But leave those who do in peace!"

We both looked over at Braska, who was still kneeling, holding the scrap of paper so close that it nearly touched his lips. Thank Yevon he hadn't been disturbed. "If you cannot remain quiet in here, step outside. We'll call you when we're ready to face the Trials."

"No need, Auron," Braska rose and placed the paper into his pocket. "I'm ready to go whenever you are."

"You are sure?"

Braska nodded, and we flagged down a passing monk to let us into the Trials. He smiled as he opened the door for us. It made me want to punch him. As soon as we stepped inside, I felt all my hair stand up on end, and my unease grew.

"What's the deal, man?" Jecht whined, seemingly unable to stop rubbing his arms.

"It's all the electricity in the air," Braska answered, "It makes you feel on edge."

"Jeez, first it's freezing, now it's electrified . . .are there any nice temples?"

"Well, the fire temple in Killika probably won't be to your liking, but I have no idea what the Besaid Temple is like. It's supposed to house the aeon of light."

We stood in the center of the Trails. "Ah. It seems we must light up the symbol," Braska drew his fingers through the air, following the paths that the sphere's power would take, then started instructing us where to move spheres and pedestals, working right beside us. Having something lessened the tension I was feeling considerably, though it would return in quick pangs whenever I remembered why I was working so hard, what I was helping Braska to do.

"Alright. Now, Jecht, if you could just take those two spheres," He pointed, "To the front room, and Auron, if you could help me move this pedestal one more time—"

We almost didn't comprehend the sound when we heard it; a sort of loud hum and a sizzle and a choked scream as Jecht fell to the floor, writhing with two spheres lying on the ground near where he had fallen.

I swore, "Idiot! We told you not grab two at once!" I checked his pulse. Still good. And air was still moving in and out of his nostrils.

"Let me see him, Auron." I hastily moved aside so Braska could see what harm had been done. "Well," Braska smiled, "He looks singed, but that's about it. He should be fine. If you could just get these spheres put back in that front room, I'll get the pedestal moved and we can drag him up to the Chamber with us."

I nodded and took the spheres back, one at a time, and helped Braska get Jecht onto the newly-made lift and up the short flight of stairs to what I had dubbed the guardian waiting room. Braska went ahead into the Chamber of the Fayth; waiting until Jecht was awake would hardly be doing him a favor. I was just thinking that perhaps I could ask Braska to cast a sleeping spell on me next time he went into the Chamber, since guardians weren't really needed during this time anyway, when something decidedly unusual happened.

The floor started shaking. At first I ignored it; the whole buliding was constantly tingling with electricity, and had been faintly rumbling ever since Braska had entered the chamber of the Fayth. But the shaking continued, and the shaking got harder until I was sure I saw the walls bending, and several years' worth of dust were floating down on top of us from the high reaches of the room. An empty lamp fell off a shelf and shattered. And a whine filled the room, rising in volume and pitch until I covered my ears in pain. I looked over toward the chamber door, but guardians were not permitted to enter that room so there was nothing I could do for him. Someone had once told me that doorways were the safest place to be in an earthquake, so I uncovered my ears _Yevon, that's loud,_ and started dragging Jecht along to the doorway that separated the guardian waiting room from the stairway and trials below it. Before we even got halfway there, however, it swooped down upon us.

The aeon.

It was a gigantic, crackling horse with a horn on its head, running straight for us as if it wanted to impale us on it. I would learn later that I only stood as high as this beast's shoulder, and that the horn was as long as my arm, but at the time I only knew that it was _big._ I dropped Jecht and reached for my sword—not even thinking about what a bad idea wielding metal against a thunder being might be—but before I could even draw it, the aeon leapt straight into Jecht's chest and disappeared. I just stood there for a long while. What happened? Aeons just didn't leap out and attack people! And, if the aeon was out here…what had happened to Braska?


	14. One Thing After Another

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

**Chapter 14**

I had no idea what to do. How long do I stay? If something happened to Braska, was I allowed to break into the Chamber of the Fayth to get him out? _Could _I even break in if I wanted to, or would the door recognize me as an intruder and strike me down? Was there a point when I was supposed to leave? Summoners had been known to stay inside the Chamber for up to a day in the past, but things like this didn't normally happen. Do I tell someone? What do I do? I looked at Jecht. _Why do you make everything so __**difficult**_

As if he could hear my thoughts, his body suddenly gave one big twitch, and Ixion began emerging from his chest, thankfully at a much slower pace than he had leapt into it. I crawled backwards as fast as I could, only stopping when my back hit the wall. Ixion didn't spare me so much as a glance. He just stepped to Jecht's side, shook his hooves as if they were wet, and walked _through_ the door back into the Chamber of the Fayth. Jecht began stirring again almost immediately.

"Mwuh? Wha happen?"

"You tell me," I said, going back over to him on hands and knees. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," He blinked hard. "Yeah. It…it feels like I just met someone who I haven't seen in a long time. They were sad."

"Sad?"

"Yeah, or homesick maybe? I dunno man, it was all so clear a second ago, but it's like tryin' to hold water, ya know? It's all…" he cupped his hand in the air and then spread his fingers apart. "It was so clear a second ago."

"Never mind that. Are you alright? Can you move? Are you dizzy?"

"Yes. No. Just tired. Stop askin' so many questions." He batted weakly at my arm.

"At least come sit against the wall instead of sprawling out on the floor." He got himself up and crawled over to the floor. The movement seemed to wake him a bit and, though he didn't show the—let's call it 'energy'—I was used to seeing in him, it didn't seem like he was going to fall back into unconsciousness.

There were a couple of loud thumps and the customary grinding sound when the Chamber to the Fayth opened and Braska stumbled out. He hung onto the frame for a moment, color drained from his face.

I immediately stood. "Braska! Are you alright?"

"I…yes. I believe so. And you?" He looked at the both of us.

"I…" Best to explain what happened out here later, when we were all more rested. "Believe so."

"That fayth thing—is that who you talk to in there?" Jecht looked up at Braska from his position on the floor.

"Yes." The answer was drug from somewhere far away as Braska took in Jecht's exhausted state. "Did you…?"

"They're homesick, I think. Or something." Jecht shook his head, "It's like I tell ya, Auron. The longer I'm awake, the less it makes sense. Gah!" He ran a hand roughly through his head, leaving it sticking up in odd spikes, "Just forget it."

We had to spend the rest of the day resting in the temple—Jecht and Braska were both utterly exhausted. I was tired in a way that no rest could solve. What had happened in there, in the Trials, didn't make any sense. I had thought, at first, that the aeons had finally begun to realize that Braska was a heretic, and had rejected him. But that didn't explain why Ixion had run to Jecht. And Braska told me that he had received the aeon. So why had the fayth bypassed the summoner and gone to a guardian, and a blasphemous guardian at that?

Whenever I lay down, I simply tossed and turned, unable to find any rest, like when I was a child and had too much energy to sleep.

Braska and Jecht slept like rocks.

We had to leave the following day. Though I had helped where I could the day before (I needed something to do with my hands) we could stay any longer without donating something. Having practically nothing, we chose to move on.

Braska and Jecht were still rather tired, and Braska and I, at least, were rather shaken, when we began to walk down the Mushroom Rock road. Our pace was sluggish, but we all knew that, regardless of speed, we would not be reaching shelter tonight. We rested often, and our clumsy movements made our already-low medical supplies dwindle down to nothing. We now had to rely on Braska for healing—an awkward situation because we had begun to count on his black magic to help Jecht and I eliminate the fiends.

It shouldn't come as much of a surprise that we were not able to continue long in this fashion.

"We just need to find a more sheltered spot. The 'ocean breeze' will be cold when the sun goes down."

"Yeah, I know. I live by the ocean, remember?"

It was hardly even dusk, so I can't blame lack of light, only weariness and tension, but I didn't even see the basilisk until the tip of its tail was under my boot. It immediately doubled back on itself and reared up, hissing and spitting.

It was one of those moments when your brain is in such shock it can't even think of the proper explicatives to use, much less figure out what part of the body it should be telling to _Move __**now**_. Jecht, idiot that he is, jumped in with his sword. It barely cut through the tough scales, and the serpent turned its glare on Jecht and petrified him. I knew I had nothing. No softs, no remedies. I think I would have been hard-pressed to find pocket lint.

"Braska!"

"I don't have enough for an esuna, Auron!"

Despite Braska current lack of magical stores, the fiend seemed perfectly able to sense the mage in the group, and as fiends so often do, headed straight for him. I went after the monster, but it barely shot me an annoyed glance before attacking Braska with its limb-like claws. Braska was trying to fend the beast off, but without any magic at his disposal he wasn't making much headway. One of the claws managed to catch him on the side of the head, laying him out flat. I roared and stuck my sword across the back of its neck. _That_ got its attention. Just enough for it to fix me with that gaze, naturally.

_Oh, shit._

Sir Guardian, are you alright?"

My eyelids felt like lead, but somehow I was able to crack them open and make the intelligent reply, "Whuh?"

"Take it easy, sir. We're not sure how long you've been petrified, so it may take a while for movement to come back. Can you tell me how many were with you?"

I clumsily lifted a hand, it was like lifting a shoopuf, and tried to show him two fingers. "Two othersh. Wa other guardian, an' a summoner."

"Good, you're all here then. We got 'em all!" He called over his shoulder. For the first time I bothered to look at who had been questioning me. A warrior monk's uniform. Damn it, did it have to be warrior monks? I prayed I wouldn't run into anyone I knew.

You should be well enough acquainted with my luck to know that this would not be the case.

We were no sooner in the encampment when I heard a familiar voice.

"Auron!"

No way in heaven or earth…"Kinoc!?"

"What in Yevon's name happened to you?"

"I could ask the same. What are you doing here?"

"With all due respect, commander, if you need to speak with Sir Auron could you wait until I've set him down?"

"Oh! Of course. You!" He pointed at someone walking by, "Summon a white mage, will you?"

"Yes sir!"

The three of us were led off to one of the larger tents. "There will be a medic arriving shortly," the red-haired monk said, "Though I think you're more in need of rest than anything else."

"My thanks, friend."

He shook his head. "It is the duty of any follower of Yevon to aid his brother." He left and I turned my head to the side to see my companions. Jecht appeared to already be asleep, though it may just have been that his eyelids felt too heavy to lift—the longer one was petrified, the longer its after effects lasted.

"Lord Braska?" I tossed out tentatively.

"I though I told you to quit with that 'lord' business."

I smiled. "My apologies."

If he was well enough to argue over forms of address, he couldn't be too badly off. A white mage walked in, checked us over, cast a few Curas and prescribed just what the redhead had predicated—rest. And I was in no mood to argue.

When I awakened, it was to the smell of food. A young solider whom I did not recognize walked in, juggling three plates. "Ah! You are awake!" He gave one plate to each of us. "Forgive us, Lord Summoner, Guardians, we have only the simplest here. How are you faring?"

"Very well, thank you," Braska answered smoothly, "And thank you, also, for all that you have done for us."

The boy looked embarrassed. "Well, couldn't very well leave you out there."

"Yes, I doubt my friends were adding much to the scenery."

"Oi!" Jecht protested, "_You_ wouldn't have made a great statue under the circumstances!"

The boy seemed uncertain of our teasing—apparently he expected a summoner party to be much more dignified. So did I, frankly, but there was only so much pomp you could get out of Braska. Apparently being wounded depleted his already-low tolerance for it.

"Oh! And Sir Auron?" I looked up. "Commander Kinoc would like to see you as soon as you are well enough."

_Commander?_ I nodded. The boy—he couldn't have been more than sixteen—bowed and left the tent.

Commander. That made Kinoc second-in-comand, with only High Priest Tybalt above him.

"So, who's this Kinoc guy?" Jecht had pushed himself onto one side, propping his head up on a fist as he ate.

I tied my shoelaces. "He and I served together in Bevelle. It would seem that his situation has changed drastically since then."

"Oh, that's right. You were a warrior monk. Did you quit to become a guardian?"

I smiled wryly. "Something like that."

I set my now-empty plate to the side and got up—the only stiffness remaining being one resulting from sleeping on the ground and not petrifaction—and made my way out of the tent clearly serving as the camp's infirmary.

I didn't even have to look for which tent was Kinoc's. Another soldier saw me walking about and stopped me. "Sir Guardian?"

"Auron."

"Ah, Sir Auron." He spoke with an old man's rasp. "This way."

The soldier barely excused himself from his commander's tent before Kinoc threw his arms out and pounded my back in what he had always insisted was a "manly hug." I'd never been able to bring myself to reciprocate, so he didn't expect me to now.

"Good heavens, man! To think that I'd meet you here, and in such circumstances!"

Thanks for rubbing it in. "It has been a…trying couple of days."

"I imagine. Guardian to Lord Braska, and only some backwater islander for help! He looks like he doesn't even know which way to point his sword! Have you been taking care of them this entire time?" He was making no effort to hide it, but still it felt like spying to take a glance at his left hand. A plain gold band rested on the fourth finger. Understudy, indeed.

I looked back up at his face. "Lord Braska's magic may have been all that's gotten us this far, though it would be helpful to have a second mage with us. And as for Jecht…you're right, he doesn't know a lance from a lunchbox, but he's learning, quicker than most would under these circumstances."

"That's just Auron-speak for 'I've been carrying these fools,'" But he smiled good-naturedly. "Just don't push yourself too far. Take some rest, and make sure to take plenty of supplies with you before you go."

"I—" I wanted to refuse, even when I knew, logically, that we would not make it far without supplies.

"I would be remiss in my duties if I allowed a summoner party to go without when I still had something to give."

I nodded, understanding both the truth of what he said, and what he didn't say. We were still friends. Yevon knows I didn't envy him his marriage, though, knowing Kinoc, I doubt he'd take any notice of her once the ceremony was over.

"Thanks for everything, Kinoc."

Kinoc smiled the same way he always had. "I know I don't need to tell you this, but guard Lord Braska well."

"That, I will." I would not make this mistake again—it very well could have been my last. I smiled. "And you'll be busy, too, I heard they made you second-in-command."

Kinoc sighed and hung his head. Surely he hadn't hoped to keep it from me? Why? I mean, certainly I was more deserving, better skilled, more experienced, scored above him and everyone else in any test they could think to throw at me, but I certainly was not feeling slighted. At all.

"You know that promotion was meant for you. You were always the better one, even until the end."

That helped. It didn't make it go away—Yevon damn them, it was so _unfair_—but the fact that at least the man who got my position recognized it, the fact that my _friend_ recognized it, made it matter just a little less. "You make it sound as if I was going off to die or something," I tried to laugh. I failed miserably. "I will see you again." Yevon, how many boys and men had said _that_ and never returned?

"Yes." I could see the same thoughts moving through across his face. I hid my thoughts behind a frown, and he hid his behind a smile, but we could always read each other.

"Well, then..." I made a move toward the door.

"Going already?" There really was no more to say, but I understood. We had thought our last parting was in Bevelle. This meeting felt like a second chance—to say anything that hadn't been said yet. Why did it feel as though I was already gone? As if Kinoc had taken my place? "You will tell me about Zanarkand when you return, won't you?"

I smiled. _I will see you again._ "Farewell."

I saw him go toward his desk and move a spherecam that he'd been using as a paperweight on the makeshift desk before he escaped my peripheral version, and walked back toward the infirmary.

"Ah, Auron. We were just discussing whether we should leave or if we should wait until tomorrow."

"Are the two of you feeling well enough to go? I know you took a hard hit on the head, Braska."

"Couldn't have knocked things any looser than they are already," he smiled. "If you two are well enough to continue."

Jecht and I nodded and the three of us began heading down the Mushroom Rock under the noonday sun. It was probably the first and last time I'd ever thank my pack for being so heavy.


	15. Teamwork

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

**Chapter 15—Mi'hen**

It took longer than we expected to get down the other side of the Mushroom Rock road, but we were being far more cautious going down than we had been going up. Besides, our packs were much heavier this time around, and so we felt we had the option of dawdling a little—we weren't worried about running out of food before our next stop. And not having to worry about running out of things, food or medicinal supplies, made the fighting much easier. I hadn't realized how distracting our penniless state had been until it was somewhat lifted, but Jecht and I both had been making careless mistakes while attempting to be cautious. Braska too, to a lesser extent, though his position as our mage had kept him further from the fiends anyway. Now that we felt more confident in our ability to recover should we make a mistake, we fought much better. Jecht hardly ever missed his targets now (though he insisted on attempting to hit our aerial enemies, even after I'd told him several times to leave those to Braska), and when the blows connected, they hit harder. It truly was remarkable how fast he was catching on. I wondered, not for the first time, if physical talent was inversely proportional to intelligence. 

Jecht pointed out that it had been _me_ who had stepped on the basilisk. I felt that fact irrelevant to the current discussion.

He then proceeded to prove my point by running off into a shallow cave nearby, claiming to have seen a treasure chest, and waking up a cluster of fungi. It was hard to tell who was more startled, Jecht or the strangely animate mushrooms, but it was the specimens of overgrown mildew that sent spores flying through the air in golden showers.

"Don't breathe in!" Braska called, but I could already hear Jecht choking and coughing. Not that I could blame him, as we ran in, we were hard pressed to avoid similar reactions. The poisonous dust tickled your nose in a way that made you instinctively want to breathe in to sneeze, and smarted as it landed in your eyes, making them tear so the whole scene blurred like a watercolor left in the rain. I heard the magic churning before I could see what spell was being cast, and where from, but before I could clear my eyes and swing, I saw a blur run ahead of me, and heard the sound of a sword being buried in disturbingly spongy flesh.

"Use these," Jecht rasped and placed a bottle in my hands. I thumbed the lid, feeling for the distinctive raised design that marked eye drops apart from other potions (had to be able to find them when you were blinded) and found it. The bottle was half-empty (why could I already hear Braska saying "half-full" in my head?), but there was still enough to clear my eyes of the pollen. I put the drops in, feeling incredibly vulnerable all the while—was there a fiend behind me, before me, right by my side?—but felt incredible relief and surprise when I wiped my eyes on a clean bit of my shirt and saw Jecht and Braska.

There were three fungi still fighting us. Whether the others had been killed or fled deeper into the cave I did not know. But Jecht kept himself between the semi-sentient mold and Braska, and had lured all three away from me while I'd recovered. Time now to do my part. Again, I heard the sound of swelling magic and saw one of the mushrooms waving its odd arms as it gathered the spell together, and ran to it, slicing it in two before it could finish. Jecht ran to another one and the cut sliced deep, but not all the way through. The thing hissed and moved to wave more of that pollen into the air again, but Braska sent two quick fire spells in succession, one to the left, where Jecht's injured fungus moved to attack, and the other to the remaining mushroom, which promptly burst into flames, then pyreflies.

I looked up at Jecht. "A treasure chest? What are you, a pirate from a child's tale? Who leaves treasure chests lying around?"

Jecht looked chagrined and touched his sword to a jutting bit of rock, with red and yellow mineral stripes running across it. "Sorry. With the sun coming in…it really did look like one." His voice was still rough, probably newly un-silenced, and his smile sheepish. "I guess this world's got me thinking anything's possible, with so many things being so different from home."

"Well, we escaped unscathed," I said, and let my hand fall heavily on his shoulder, "You did well."

Braska coughed before speaking in his own rough whisper. "_That_ was working like a team."

I gave a curt nod, and, against my will, a small smile curved around one side of my mouth. A team. What summoner parties were supposed to be. What Braska had wanted us to be. And, I was just realizing, what _I_ wanted us to be. I had been thinking about this journey as something to tough through, simply assuming that I would be carrying Braska along the way, and carrying Jecht only until he inevitably quit. But this could very well be the last journey any of us ever take, not just Braska. And I didn't want to go to the Farplane with my only memories being about how I'd toughed my way through life. If that was what people died remembering, it was no wonder Spira was overrun with fiends.

Jecht nodded heartily and through his head back in a hoarse laugh, "Yeah, we kicked some ass, didn't we? Sin's not gonna stand a chance against us!"

And even a comment like that, something that was such a reminder of what was coming at the end of this journey, of how different Jecht was from us, how little he understood, couldn't bring us down.

"If it isn't shaking in its shoes when we get there, it should be," Braska agreed, grinning.

"We're all going to be shaking from cold if we don't find a place to camp that's out of the wind."

"Aw, Auron, don't be such a stiff. We both saw you smile. There were witnesses!"

"That's true, Auron. You'll never be able to convince us with the stern demeanor now."

"Too bad I didn't catch it on the sphere cam; I'm pretty sure it'd make the Spiran history books."

"Yes, that is too bad. I suppose two eyewitness accounts won't be enough to make it stick there. But with only eyewitnesses, you have a legend. And people remember those much longer than they remember history as it actually happened."

"If I'm going to be in a legend, can I be in one where we actually make camp by nightfall?"

"You sound like an old man, Auron. Do you need your strained prunes before you go to bed with the sun?"

"Fine, stay here if you want. Make your own camp."

"As long as you don't share those prunes."

We ended up making our camp just past Crusader Gate, which separated the rocky sea cliffs from the tall grasses and dusty path of the Mi'hen Highroad, in the lea of the boulders that marked the beginning of the Old Road.

"I'll take first—"

"_I'll_ take the first watch." Jecht interjected, jaw already set stubbornly.

I nodded. "Alright. Then I can take the second watch. Just wake me at—"

"Actually, I thought I'd take second watch, Auron." Braska said calmly.

"Braska, sir, with all due respect—"

"We are a team, Auron. If I cannot pull my weight here, how will I be strong enough to defeat Sin?"

"And you believe that depriving yourself of sleep will make you stronger?"

Braska sighed and gave me an irritated look. "Depriving yourself of sleep is not going to help anyone, either. We would let you take one of the earlier shifts, but we worry that you would attempt to stay up all night again, so you are on third watch until further notice."

"Braska. Jecht and I are your guardians. We can simply make two longer watches instead of three. There is no need for you to wake in the middle of the night."

"And I say no. If you recall, Auron, I was prepared to take this journey completely alone."

"And I don't plan on being useless, either. Can't have a kid showing me up." Jecht smirked.

I looked from one to the other. Clearly I was outvoted. "Fine. But you will wake me."

"As soon as my watch is over, yes." Braska nodded. I paced around a bit restlessly, but I could feel two pairs of eyes on me as both refused to move from their places by the fire. Mutiny. Nevermind it was Braska who was the summoner, and therefore Braska who was the leader of our little band. This was clearly mutiny.

The fact that I fell asleep within minutes of crawling into the tent just proves that my body was in on the revolt.


End file.
